November Rain
by Goldylokz
Summary: Nine to Five Sequel: Rogue's work burnt down, Wanda's been brainwashed, St John loses it, & Remy won't stay away. To make matters worse evil offers itself to Rogue in a pretty package while the the boys are trying to get the old Wanda back. Romy,Jonda
1. Fortyfive Days

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

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**A/N:** This is the second story in the series that starts with "Nine to Five." I recommend that you read that story first in order to fully understand the relationships between the characters. Plus it's funny.

This story takes place after "X-treme Measures" and "The Toad, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," but before "Self Possessed." This chapter is kinds just a prologue summing up what happened in "Nine to Five" and since then.

A special thanks to Skysong, who is editting this stuff so I can get it to you faster.

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**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter One: Forty-Five Days**

_Six weeks. A month an' a half. How can so much happen in only forty-five days? Ah get a job, meh an' the owner get the crap beat out o' us, practically everyone in Bayville gathered around the store ta tell meh that they think Ah should have been killed at birth, and to finish it off, mah friend's boss decided ta burn the place ta the ground. _

Ah meet someone who can really relate ta meh, only ta find out that he was lyin' ta meh. Maybe the whole time. An' Ah had ta admit that Jean may have been right. It almost killed meh.

One o' my teammate's drinks some bad juice an' runs away ta live in the sewers, leavin' his best friend here ta act uncharacteristically depressed, not ta mention his equally hurt aunt who Ah think keeps lyin' ta his mom. Not that Ah wouldn' do the same. What would Ah say, "Hey sis, remember how Ah convinced ya ta send your only son here under mah care ta learn how ta control his mutant powers? Well, his powers went all wonky, and now he prefers ta live in the rat infested sewers with a couple of other cynical and maniacally depressed socially outcast mutants. Oh, but Ah made sure he took his sweater. . ."

Another one o' mah friends falls off the face o' the planet fo' a week, then comes back actin' all funny. Not funny, but not herself. She was always apathetic, but Ah'm not sure that she cares 'bout anything anymore. An' she never mentions her hot an' heavy boyfriend anymore, so Ah have ta assume they hadda fallin' out, which might account fo' the apathy. Ah don' wanna brin' it up because Ah'm afraid she'll go back ta her old self an' pop off mah head fo' sayin' anythin'. An' ah like mah head where it is.

Plus she'd only assume that Ah was scraping for news 'bout Remy. Not that Ah couldn' get it myself if Ah wanted. Everyday fo' the last two weeks it's somethin' new: a letter, a singing telegram, a postcard, a phone call, some poor kid he paid to dress up as a "messenger pigeon", a pajamagram. . . .that was interesting. Ah was frightened to open it, figuring it would be some trashy lacy teddy, but Ah was pleasantly surprised. It was called a "zen gown." It had an Asian feel to it, with the collar and the black and green bamboo pattern stretching down past mah knees. As much as Ah hate him right now, Ah have ta admit that the boy has good taste. At least when he wants to.

Rogue looked down at her watch: 4:51 pm. _Ah shoulda started dinner twenty minutes ago_. She only had one more day on her punishment. The girl sighed and swung her legs from the branch of the red maple tree. She decided just to jump the eighteen feet to the grassy lawn of Xavior's Institute grounds below. It was a nice day, cool and crisp but requiring nothing more than a light jacket. The leaves had just begun to turn and begin their yearly feign of death for several months. It was the first day since Evan left that it hadn't rained. Rogue guessed that it wasn't a coincidence. _Somethin' musta put Ororo in a good mood_.

Rogue brushed the dirt and bark from her jeans and pulled a leaf out of her messy hair. She began the trek back up to the mansion, trying not to slip on the wet leaves as she went. There was a bright flash off to the west, followed in twenty seconds by a deafening crack of thunder. _Guess Ah spoke too soon 'bout the weather_. She turned up the collar of her jacket as the wind picked up. By the time the first few drops fell, she was safely in the foyer of the mansion.

* * *

"Petey," Remy LeBeau called as he walked down the hall of their new warehouse base toward John's, Piotr's, and his own living quarters. Magneto had decided it was best to separate Sabertooth and Mastermind from the younger ones for the sake of his sanity and his furniture. The elder mutants resided on a totally separate floor on the other side of the warehouse. They even had separate common rooms now. They still had to share the kitchen and the weight/workout room, but carefully planned time schedules kept the volatile ones from bumping into each other.

"Petey?" Remy was outside the other Acolyte's bedroom. He pushed open door to find the mutant listening to classical music and sketching. "Petey, have you seen John lately?"

The Ruski shook his head, "Not for a time now. I saw him last watching the arrow cartoon and writing notes." Then he thought for a moment. "After the storm started, I did hear him squeal."

Remy hung his head and sighed. "I was afraid o' d'at." He started to close the other boy's door, then thought of one last comment. "If I don' come back in a half hour, call 911 an' direct d'em to the roof."

He trudged back down the hallway. He headed toward the elevator but instead pushed open the stairwell door. In the tall, empty stairwell, the sound of the rain pouring down echoed. There was a clap of thunder, and to Remy it sounded like he had just found himself standing in front of the speakers at a Black Sabbath concert. At last, he reached the heavy steel door that lead to the roof.

Upon opening, Remy found what he was looking for: St. John Allerdyce, soaked to the bone and waving his arms and body around, as if he was attempting to dance to a slow electronica song at a night club.

"It's time to come in, John-boy." Remy felt like the boy's mother.

"But- but- I think I got it this time!" the Aussie yelled excitedly and hopped around. "Watch!" John waved his arms around some more, squatted and breathed. Then he raised one of his hands with two fingers pointed up to the dark sky expectantly. Remy did have to admit that he was at least becoming more graceful with all of his practice.

"Oui, dat looks great, John," the Cajun praised. "If you keep practicin', I'm sure you'll get it in another week or two."

John pretended not to hear him and maintained his position. He thought about some memorable lines from his "arrow cartoon":_"Never stop fighting; never give up."_ Then something amazing happened. Lightning struck an old antennae just behind where John was standing. Both boys could feel the excess electricity as every hair on their bodies stood up.

Once John recovered, he started jumping up and down. "That's it! I just need a little conductor to hone in on my powers!" The wet and crazy orange-haired mutant dashed over to the antennae and tried to pull it up from the base.

Remy sprinted over to the Aussie, once he recovered from the shock of the lightning. "No, John! Put it down!" he yelled over the downpour. Remy ripped the metal pole of death from his hands and struggled to secure it back on the roof.

"But I need to work on my firebending powers!" John insisted. "If that evil little runt Azula can do it, then I can too!"

Remy decided to stop playing along and tell it to him straight. "Dat's just a cartoon! You are not Prince Zuko an' your mutant powers do not include controlling lightning!" (1)

"But Azula and Uncle Iroh can do it," John replied in a whiny voice. He knew Remy was right, but he felt he had to try.

"A CARTOON, JOHN!" Remy was frustrated. "You know what d'at means, right!" Remy wasn't exactly sure anymore. Since Wanda's memory wipe, John stopped being insolent to Magneto (at least to his face), just like Remy asked. Actually he stopped saying much of anything to the Master of Magnetism. He would just look at him blankly and nod. 

John was showing other signs of instability. He was becoming colder, harsher, not to Remy, but to other people, even a little to Peter. His once funny and obscure comments grew dark and snappish. It was almost as if he didn't care about whose feelings he hurt.

Remy considered finding a psychiatrist he could trust to take John to. Get him on some medication for bipolar or manic depression. But he knew that he could never get John to a shrink, much less get him to take his meds. So he just tried to be there for him - watching his back, being the friend he couldn't be back when John wanted to rescue Wanda.

"Yes." John's wet mop of a head fell down and looked at his waterlogged socks. He could still tell the difference between reality and fantasy. No matter how much he wished he was in a cartoon, he knew he wasn't. In cartoons, everything always turned out all right in the end. The boy would get the girl or vice versa, and they'd live together happily ever after. In cartoons, there were no crazy fathers that brainwashed their own daughters.

"Good." Remy walked over to him and put his arm around the disheartened boy. He lead him off toward the stairwell. "Now let's get inside an' dry off. I'll even charge up some towels so d'ey're nice an' warm."

"Remy." John looked up into his friend's eyes. "Does this pain inside every go away? I mean, besides when we piss the night away." (2)

"I don' know," Remy replied and shut the door to the roof.

"So, got anything out of Jason yet?"

"Sabertooth has new sheets," Remy replied.

"Guess not," John shrugged off the seemingly unrelated answer. "Heard anything from your shelia?"

"Nope."

The Aussie shook his head. "I still say you shoulda sent her the skimpy, see-through nightie," John referred to the pajamagram.

"Oui, so she'd call me up to yell at me," came Remy's sarcastic reply.

"At least she'd be callin'," the other boy pointed out. They'd reached their floor. 

"Shut up." Remy hated it when John made sense. Especially in his current condition. Remy opened the door for John, then pushed him through.

* * *

From his room, Piotr heard the heavy stairwell door slam and knew Remy had convinced John to come down. _Good, now I do not have to call the ambulance_. 

"I am sorry, Kitty. Could you say that again? Remy and John came downstairs. They made a big noise," Piotr spoke into his new cell phone. Remy had gotten them all one. When the phone bill from the old headquarters came in, the boys had trouble explaining all the calls to Xavior's Institute. They almost had Magneto buying the lie that Sabertooth was crank-calling Wolverine, until Magneto got a good look at the length of the calls. A three-hour crank call was a little too big for Magneto to swallow. Remy took the heat for the calls, even though Piotr had made the majority of the long ones. "Mags already knows 'bout me and Rogue. D'ere's no sense in gettin' you in trouble too," Remy had told him, after "confessing" to Magneto.

"That's okay. I know what it's like to live in house full of loud people, believe me," the girl gabbed from the other end of the line. "I was just saying that I, like, finally got the grade back on my art project you helped me with. You know, back before..." she hesitated, trying to find the best words to describe the night, "...the fire and everything. I hate how it takes teachers forever to get stuff back to you. Considering that nobody's gotten their test back we took over a month ago, I guess that getting my project graded in a few weeks is pretty good. What was school like back in Russia?"

He told her. It was hard for him, though. Remembering his life in Russia had made him think of his family: his grandparents, his mother, his father, his brother, his sister. All he could do was reassure himself that what was left of his family was safe and happy. But he missed them.

Kitty Pryde was a very good confident. They hadn't met in person since the Saturday night Magneto came back, but they talked on the phone nearly every evening. Kitty told him about America, customs, her parents, and Chicago, while Piotr listened and shared Russia with her. She was a very curious person. Like a sponge, she absorbed all of the information and stories he shared with her, and she could recite them back to him if he asked. That was a nice thing to have. A close friend. That was still all they were.

Remy and John were his friends too, but they didn't seem to care much about his past. They knew the basics and knew more than Kitty about a few things, but they never actually asked him about it. They never asked him to explain things. They would joke with him, tease him, but they never really got serious. They never got to the heart of any matter with him. If they ever came close to it at night, when they would drink the booze Remy seemed to pull out of thin air, John would make some lighthearted joke, or Remy would change the subject. But he knew they were his friends, and that they would defend him and protect him, just as he would do for them. Until it came to standing up against Magneto, anyway.

Guilt still haunted Piotr about that day. He knew it was wrong; he knew he should have followed John in the charge to save Wanda, but he hadn't. He kept telling himself he was keeping Illyana safe and that would comfort him for a time. But the guilt always came back.

Piotr told Kitty more about his school life. ". . . And new books were always very exciting. The village I went to school in did not have money, and many of our books were old. A few were from the Soviet days. I remember opening a new...a new...what do you call the science of falling and throwing things?"

"Physics?" she guessed.

"I remember opening a new phys-ic-s book." Piotr said the word slowly to get the pronunciation right. "It smelled very nice. It had crisp pages and bright drawings."

"Wow. I never realized how much I take for granted until I started talking with you, Peter," Kitty commented. "It gives me a whole new appreciation for everything."

"PPPPEEEETTTTEEEEEYYYYYY!" Piotr heard John's voice charge down the hallway. The Russian ignored him and continued his conversation with Kitty.

That didn't satisfy John, and he ran to his door and threw it open. "Petey! Didn't you hear me? We have a new theme tonight: Island getaway. Your drink must have a tropical island name to it. Like sea breeze, Malibu rum on the rocks, or sex on the beach. Damn, I want some sex on the beach."

Piotr put his hand over the phone. "I am on the telephone, John. I will come out when I am finished."

"But we want to get drunk now," he whined. "Is it Kitty again? Did I come in during the phone sex again? Was she just undoing your belt?"

"John, shut the door," Piotr growled. "I will join you later."

The Aussie began to do as Piotr asked. Just before the door was fully shut, John stuck his head in and yelled, "Don't forget to lick him behind his ears, Kitten! He likes that a lot!" He slammed the door before Piotr had the chance to throw something at him. 

Piotr could still hear John's voice through the walls as he headed to the kitchen and Remy with the liquor. "Remy! Petey is busy with his sex kitten. I think I need a durry (3) after overhearing those two. Wanna join me for a smoke?"

Piotr removed his hand from the end of the phone, knowing that his hand didn't keep out John's booming voice. "I am sorry about John. He has not been himself."

"What is wrong with him again? And since when do he and Remy smoke?"

Piotr sighed. He couldn't tell her the whole story. "Since John and Wanda broke up. He has taken it rather hard. Remy smoked before he joined Magneto, and John has gotten him back into the habit."

"But the breakup was weeks ago, wasn't it? There has to be more than that."

"It is not my business to tell any more," Piotr hoped to kill the subject. He did not want to feel guilty tonight.

Kitty forced a laugh. "Well, if there is one thing you aren't, Piotr Rasputin, it's a gossip."

There was silence on the line; Kitty wanted to pressure him to tell her more but knew it was fruitless to do so. 

"You should probably meet up with John before he comes back and makes more lewd comments at our expense."

"Okay." Piotr, although he loved his conversations with the X-woman, was thankful of the permission to end the awkwardness. "Again, I am sorry for his lood comments."

"Lewd, and that's okay," Kitty said. "I'm not upset with you. Now go before he drowns himself in sea breezes. You don't want to be holding his head above the toilet for the third night in a row."

"Yes, that is true. Good bye, Kitty. I will call you tomorrow."

"I won't be home tomorrow. Jean has a rec league soccer game I promised I'd go to. I hate that she can't play on the school's team anymore. But at least the city leagues don't care. Yet, anyway. So, I'll talk to you later! Bye!"

"Good-bye," Piotr said again and disconnected the call.

* * *

The lone girl in a household of boys sat in a chair near her bedroom window. She looked out and watched the rain fall on the leaves of the trees in the backyard. She remembered that there was a time that the rain made her feel fearful, alone, and abandoned. She wasn't quite sure why. It was a fleeting memory, emotion. 

Wanda Maximoff looked over to the antique mirror above her dresser. _Just as fleeting as what those photos were of that I had shoved into the frame of my mirror_. She got to her feet and walked over to the said piece of furniture. As she had many times before, she studied the dustless places along the mirror's frame. She traced her finger along the edges. _I know they were pictures, but where did they go? What were they of?_ Wanda racked her brain hard enough that she started to bring on a headache. _It's no use. I'll never figure it out._

She sighed and headed to the bathroom for some aspirin. She carefully stepped over the old pickle barrel placed in the hallway to catch one of the worse leaks in the house. "Freddy, the bucket is getting full," Wanda called down the stairs.

In the bathroom two large bowls took up the counter, serving the same purpose as the pickle barrel. She looked at her reflection in the mirror: Her black roots were showing on the bottom, her hair hadn't been brushed that day, and, without her make-up on, the dark circles under her eyes made her look several years older than she was.

Growing sick of her reflection, she yanked open the medicine cabinet and fiddled with the various pill bottles until she found the one she was looking for. _Ahhh, aspirin_. She pulled out the bottle and closed the cabinet door. Instead of struggling to open the childproof cap, she hexed the bottle. Holding out her hand, she felt only one tablet fall into her open hand. _NO!_ she thought and laid the last tablet on the bathroom counter before searching the bottle with her fingers for one or two more of the pain relievers.

Freddy stomped up the stairs with an empty bucket. He took the full pickle barrel and tried to squeeze past Wanda to dump the water down the bath tub. Being the small guy that he is, he accidentally shoved the witch, knocking her waist into the counter and spilling the filling bowls. Wanda glared at her housemate and hurled the empty aspirin bottle at him. It hit the back of his neck, but Fred couldn't tell. It just bounced off to the ground and rolled behind the toilet.

Wanda sighed and felt for the last fraction of her salvation. There was nothing there, just icy rain water. "No," she whispered. The witch pulled up the stop plug on the sink, hoping to see her pill lying just beyond, maybe within her reach. But she wasn't so fortunate. The pill was gone, spilt off the counter and down the drain by the overflowing rain water.

Her knees gave way, and she gripped the counter with her hands. Her head was at the same level as the tile countertop, so she softly banged it against her forehead. That did not help her growing headache much. She stifled a melodramatic sigh and turned her head, seeing Freddy next to the bathtub. _I forgot he was in here. If that fatass hadn't bumped me, I'd at least have some relief in this godforsaken house!_ She hexed the unsuspecting Blob into the bathtub where the shower curtain wrapped itself around him in a George the Abominable Snowman love hug, and freezing water spewed from the faucets.

She thought that making Freddy suffer would make her feel better, but it didn't. _It used to_, she vaguely recalled. Wanda turned and left the bathroom unceremoniously. Behind her, the shower stopped trying to drown its oversized occupant. 

After first stopping in her room to grab her boots and jacket and to hide her dark circles with make up, she headed downstairs to where the rest of the Brotherhood were playing videogames. Wanda's twin brother Pietro Maximoff was, of course, dominating. He was also totally immersed in his game and didn't notice the controller cord wrapping around him until it was too late.

"Ahhh!" he shouted. Wanda walked over and stuck her hand in his back pocket.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Wanda didn't say anything, just took a twenty dollar bill out of her brother's wallet and headed out the door.

"You forgot to say thank you!" the muggee shouted as the front door slammed.

* * *

(1) _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ to be precise. And it's more than just a Nickelodeon cartoon. It's one half-hour of animated hilarity! Go Sokka! (The Skysong approves.)  
(2) Again, piss is Commonwealth slang for getting wasted/drunk/plastered. "Pissing the night away" is actually a phrase used in the British band Chumbawamba's song "Tubthumping."  
(3) Durry is Aussie slang for cigarette. 


	2. Where are the Brains?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

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**A/N**: The movie theater scene was inspired by the song "Take Tomorrow" by Butch Walker (former lead singer of Marvelous 3) off his Left of Self Centered album. 

This chapter also contains spoilers of the _Mission Impossible III_ movie.

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**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Two: Where are the brains?**

Being a weekday afternoon, the movie theater was fairly empty, only thirty people settling in their seats and sipping overpriced soft drinks. Among the movie patrons were three mutants. And not just any mutants. Because of the circumstances the world dealt them, they all ended up working for one of the most powerful mutants on the planet: Erik Lehnsherr a.k.a. Magneto.

They were three young men who were considered terrorists by some, freedom fighters by others; they, as well as two other older mutants, had been dubbed the Acolytes. Acolyte, noun, meaning devoted follower or attendant, from the Latin word _acolytus_.

Such a word used to describe those three mutants couldn't be farther from the truth. This was not always the case, but recent actions of their superior and events in their lives have altered their perspective. Yet, they still continued to work for Magneto for different reasons, different from when they arrived and different from each other. Whether it was to protect their loved ones or for access to information, they still worked for the man.

But not today. Today, they had taken the day off and actually left their new warehouse base on the other side of town. It was the first time Remy LeBeau was able to get his teammate St. John Allerdyce out of the building since his drunken escapade after discovering that Magneto had his former love interest Wanda Maximoff's memories altered to eliminate John from them. The third person to round out the group was the Russian Piotr Rasputin, who left his art and phone behind to spend a day with the guys.

"I'm so excited!" John said with glee as he settled down in his seat, adjusting the jumbo bucket of popcorn on his lap. "I really hope Tom Cruise's head explodes," he alluded the the preview of the movie that revealed a bomb had been placed in the lead character's head.

Remy rained on his parade. "I doubt dat d'ey are gonna kill off Tom Cruise."

"Stop being a party pooper!" John told him. "You're just upset, because the ticket guy was straight, and you had to pay for a ticket."

The Cajun sighed. "What has this world come to?"

"Cheapskate."

"Hog." Remy reached over and stole a handful of popcorn.

"Mooch."

"You two will not be insulting each other during the entire movie, will you?" Piotr asked from St. John's right.

"Non, but d'ere are still a few minutes before it starts," Remy told Piotr, whose face turned sour. "Gotta get d'em out now, right, Glutton?" Remy swiped another handful.

"Sure, Envy."

"Sloth."

"Lust."

"What kind of an insult is lust?"

"I thought we were naming the seven deadly sins."

Remy's head fell into his hand. "Non."

The theater darkened, and the green preview screen appeared. John laughed and laughed as animated animals ran across the screen stealing food. "Bruce Willis is the best!" he told Remy after the preview ended. "And who could play a better overacting possum than William Shatner! 'He's dead, Jim! (1)'" John laughed some more. John's laugh continued through the rest of the previews, whether he was laughing with or at the movies.

Then the theater darkened ever more, and the Aussie grew silent as he anxiously awaited the explosion of Tom Cruise's head. When the scene changed to a flashback without any of Tom Cruise's brains over the screen, John let out a disappointed sigh. He slouched down in his seat as J.J. Abrams set up the story of Tom Cruise's domestic life. _Boring domestic life_. John thought about catching some z's and asking Remy to wake him up when someone's head was going to explode.

Then the mission came, and John sat up. Guns went off, Felicity was rescued, and they put her in a helicopter. When Felicity told Tom Cruise she had an explosive in her head, John jumped up and down in his seat. "I will get to see someone's head explode. Ha! Remy," John pointed at his disbelieving teammate on his left. Remy shushed him and stole another handful of popcorn.

Then the climatic time came. Felicity was either going to get her head fried or blown off. Then the timer on the bomb read zero and . . . nothing happened.

John stood up in his seat, carrying the popcorn with him. "WHAT!" he shouted. "WHERE ARE THE BRAINS?"

People behind him yelled for him to sit down, but he didn't care. "I PAID TO SEE SOMEONE'S BRAINS EXPLODE ACROSS THE BLOODY BIG SCREEN!" He started to throw the popcorn from his gigantic bucket at Ving Rhames and some Irish bloke. "THEY AREN'T EVEN OOZING OUT HER EARS! MOVE ME, WHY DON'T YOU, YOU HORRIBLE HALF-RATE ACTORS!"

John continued to rant. Remy tried to pull him back down into his seat, but John would have nothing of it. Remy and Piotr stood up, and John threw his entire bucket of popcorn at the actors on the screen. The usher ran down the aisle from the back of the theater. Piotr grabbed John's arm in his steel grip and lead him out of the theater through the fire exit.

"What was dat 'bout John!" Remy yelled at his teammate, once they had gotten a safe distance away.

The Aussie looked solemnly down at his shoes. "It didn't _move_ me."

"You just got us kicked out of a movie!" Remy was still angry. "One dat I actually paid for!"

"Sorry!" John looked up and shouted back in an unapologetic manner. "They said there were going to be brain bombs, which led me to believe that there were going to be exploding brains! It was a great disappointment."

"Dat doesn' mean you can stand up and throw a tantrum in the middle of a movie!"

John turned away and kicked a stone. "Let's just go back to the base then."

"Why? So you can write depressing epitaphs and drink yourself stupid?" Remy argued. "No, I finally got you outta dat place, and we're not goin' back yet."

"It sounds like you're the one who was getting sick of it, mate," John said harshly.

"We're all sick of if, John! We all want out! And today we are going to pretend we are," he declared.

"Why bother?"

"Because it will give me a couple o' more days of sanity. Now come on. Let's go. I know just de place dat will cheer you up," Remy turned and signaled with his arm for the two others to follow him.

"Where are we going?" Piotr asked.

"You'll see," the Cajun grinned.

* * *

At Xavier's Institute, Rogue and Kitty Pryde had just made it back to their room after school. Rogue threw her bag to her side of the room as soon as she had entered the doorway. It skidded and wrinkled a rug lying on the floor, until finally settling half-way underneath her bed. Rogue threw herself on her bed and sighed. 

In comparison, Kitty calmly and carefully laid her bookbag out on her bed and started to arrange her text books and binders according to her homework assignments. Rogue turned her head to watch the girl in silence for a minute.

"Ya know, sometimes ya're too neat and orderly fo' your own good," she commented.

"I have to be or I wouldn't get anything done," the perky girl replied.

"Does it really matter anymore when your teachers are all hypocritical, bitter assholes?"

"What happened? Mr. Shomocker giving you trouble in composition class again?"

"Are ya sure your not psychic?" Rogue commented sarcastically.

"I don't know. Let's, like, get out the Ouija board!" she retorted with fake enthusiasm in her voice.

"Yea, just as soon as Ah grab the nail polish and change into mah cute, sparkly pajamas."

"I didn't know you had cute, sparkly pajamas. Did Remy send you those too?"

Rogue stared at her skeptically, not knowing if Kitty was joking or not. Then she just shrugged and snatched her current novel off the night stand.

"Hey, don't go off into Neverland without telling me what went on today," Kitty ordered as she settled on her bed with her homework out in front of her.

"Ah won't," she said as she found the place in her book where she left off. "This is _Prozac Nation_."

"Now come on. What did Mr. Child-Molester Mustache do today?"

"Ya are really bad at nicknames."

"You think that's bad?" Kitty looked up from her text book and raised an eyebrow. "I can do much, much, worse. I can even do puns. I did date Lance."

"Fine," Rogue replied, being beaten by the possibility of hearing bad puns. "We got our analyses back today an' Ah had a big, fat, red D on mine. There were no comments o' anything else written on it. And ya know how long-winded he is. He just saw mah name on the top and boom. Next time Ah'm not written mah name on it an' claim it after he grades it."

"Did you talk to the principal about it?" Kitty's voice grew with concern.

"Kelly? Are ya serious? He probably put him up ta it." Rogue flipped back to her book. "Ah got even, though. Slipped some laxative in his coffee. Although Ah almost got caught an' accidentally touched that baseball player Ruben." Rogue shuttered. "There are things guys do with a baseball that Ah really coulda died not knowin'."

"It doesn't hurt to try and talk to Principal Kelly." Kitty ignored Rogue revelation about baseball players.

"Yes, it would," she argued. "It would hurt mah head."

"But. . . " Kitty was interrupted by a knock at the open door.

"Hey, suit up. We have a mission in town. Meet us in the garage in five," Jean announced before turning to get ready herself.

Rogue dog-eared the page she was at, sighed, and rolled off her bed. "Can't wait," she said sarcastically.

* * *

"What are the Acolytes doing at Jake's Junkyard?" Kitty asked Jean and Scott, just as Rogue opened the back door to the X-Jeep. Scott was, of course, driving, with Jean sitting shotgun and Kitty, Kurt, and Rogue in the backseat. 

Scott relayed the message. "The Professor wasn't specific. Just that they're causing a disturbance. He didn't sound too concerned."

"We probably just have to show up and scare them away," Jean added.

Rogue looked out the window and snorted. _Sure, they'll run away without a fight. Sounds exactly like 'em._

Scott divulged more information. "It's just the three of them: Pyro, Gambit, and Colossus. Cerebro didn't detect anyone else. If it comes to it, Kurt, Kitty, you two go ahead and take on Colossus; Jean and I will cover Pyro; Rogue, can I count on you to take out Gambit alone?"

Rogue snapped her face forward to bore out holes in the back of Scott's head with her eyes. "We aren' involved anymore Scott. An' even if we were still friends, Ah could take him down in a heartbeat if Ah had ta. Remember the Danger Room? Ya're the one who has the problem separatin' friend from foe, not meh."

"You don't have to jump down my throat . . ." he started.

"I know; ya have Jean fo' that," Rogue interrupted.

"Rogue!" Now Jean got in on it. "We're not putting you up against Gambit because of your prior relationship. Yes, we did try and do that in the Danger Room, but we were wrong. We want you to go up against Gambit because you and Kurt are the best close range fighters we have today, and we think you will have a better chance at overcoming Gambit than Kurt because of your fighting style and training. Kurt is faster, but we need his acrobatics and teleporting capabilities to keep Colossus on his toes."

"Fine, whatever." Rogue crossed her arms and sulked. Jean's justification made sense, but she wouldn't admit it. _Ah really don' want ta see him again. Ah don' know how Ah'll react. Ah'm still mad at him, but Ah kinda missed talkin' with him. With Risty still AWOL, ah really haven' had anyone ta confide in. 'Sides Kit. An' Kurt has been haven' problems o' his own lately, with Evan leavin' an' Amanda's parents hatin' him. Ah don' want ta add ta that._

_Ah can't believe Ah almost called him yesterday. Picked up the phone an' dialed the first three numbers._ Rogue shook her head to clear him from her thoughts.

"We're here," Jean announced and stopped the car. They stumbled out and into a large junkyard. There were enormous piles of crushed cars and old washing machines. Visibility was horrible. It was also very quiet. Too quiet.

"Stay close," Scott ordered. "Rogue, Kurt, keep a look out behind us, in case they plan to close us off." The five slowly moved deeper into the wreckage.

The sound of metal crunching triggered everyone into attack positions. But nothing happened. The crew looked around, and about thirty feet above their heads flew a crumpled Ponitac Sunfire. Just as it passed over them, a shot of fire was launched from approximately the same place the car did. The fire met the car, met the fuel line, and ignited.

The X-Men jumped and ducked for cover as car parts rained down on them. They heard an insane laughter coming from behind one of the junk piles.

"I told you dis would be fun!" someone shouted before another laugh joined the insanity.

Scott signaled the group to head around to the left of the pile.

"I think fun time is over," Scott announced courageously, as the X-Men came into view of the three Acolytes. The boys' laughter stopped; Piotr set down the Buick he was going to throw but did not let go.

"Aww, come on, one eye." Remy hopped off the overturned refrigerator he was sitting on and swaggered over to the X-Men's field leader. He took a drag from the cigarette in his mouth before continuing, "We're just lettin' off a little steam. No one was gettin' hurt."

"You are causing trouble and giving mutants a bad name," Scott told the Cajun and put his hand up to his visor. "Leave now."

"Now why you gotta be like dat?" Remy said as he smirked. "Dis junkyard is plenty big enough fo' de both o' us."

"He's obviously not gettin' any, unlike the little sheila on his right," John said, theorizing, knocking the ash off the end of his fag and embarrassed Kitty, all at the same time.

The brunette blushed. "If you don't shutup, I'll phase that dirty mouth of yours off your face!" She really hoped he'd shut up about it; she couldn't risk the others finding out about her friendship with Piotr. Jean glanced suspiciously over at the Valley Girl who was projecting some pretty confused emotions.

John continued to tease. "Oooo, you are riled up, aren't you? I hope you're ready for a rough ride, Petey." Both Kitty and Piotr blushed, but luckily, the uninformed X-Men didn't think anything sexual about his comment. "Hey Red," John addressed Jean. She stopped eyeing Kitty, and turned to the pyromaniac. "You could really help us out here by relieving some of the tight ass's pent up energy. I'm sure you've had experience. I mean, didn't you date the captain of the American football team? I'm sure you didn't tease him for this long . . ."

A red energy blast shot out from Scott's visor at the pyromaniac to defend Jean's honor. Although it was perfectly aimed, it never hit him. Piotr lifted up the low riding Buick to intercept the blast. The fight was on.

The three Acolytes were not playing by Scott's a aforementioned plan. Gambit extended his bo staff and launched himself feet first into Cyclops' chest. Pyro sent a flaming pitchfork after Jean, who had trouble losing it. Then he formed two swords of fire just above his hands and faced off against Nightcrawler.

Rogue and Shadowcat approached Colossus. Rogue looked from Shadowcat to Colossus and back again. She smiled. "Hey, take mah lead, Kit." Rogue picked up a rock off the ground and threw it at the metal-clad mutant.

"You want me to, like, hit him with a rock!" Shadowcat exclaimed. Rogue answered her question by turning around, grabbing her arm, and dragging her further into the junk yard.

Confused as to why Rogue would throw a rock at him, Piotr chased the girls. When he finally caught them, Rogue was sitting casually on a lopsided Lazyboy, and Kitty was standing as far away from the piles of junk as possible and scanning the ground.

"Took ya long enough, big boy," Rogue told him. She then made an uncomfortable face, reached down behind her back, and pulled out a large spring from the chair. She intentionally tossed it at her roommate's feet. "That's better."

"ROGUE!" Kitty hopped around nervously. "Why did you do that! I thought it was another mouse!" The girl shuttered at the thought of the furry rodent running around her feet.

Colossus finally made a sound. "There was a mouse?"

"Yes, it was big and furry and had a creepy tail." The paranoid Kitty scanned the ground again.

"That's 'cause it was a rat," Rogue pointed out.

"A RAT?" Kitty squealed.

Rogue laughed at her reaction. "But now ya're here ta protect Kitty from the big, scary rats," Rogue addressed Colossus, still in his steel form.

The Russian's brow furrowed. "I am confused. Why did you hit me with a rock?"

"So ya would chase us away from Scott, Jean, and Kurt, an' ya and Kitty could actually talk fo' a minute o' two in person," Rogue explained.

"Oh." There was silence between the three of them.

"Don' tell meh ya got all your words out over the phone? Ya've been talkin' fo' hours practically every night an' now ya see each other in person an' nothin'?"

"No," Kitty objected, but she was still too overly concerned about man-eating rodents.

"Then get talkin' an' don' make all mah effort fo' nothin'." She stood up from the broken chair. "Ah'm gonna go back an' leave ya two alone. Don' be gone too long, o' ya'll get caught." Rogue waved good bye and leisurely jogged back to the others.

When she returned, little had changed. Gambit was still beating up Cyclops; Jean was dodging long range attacks from exploding cards and fireballs; Pyro was still brandishing his fire swords at Nightcrawler. Rogue decided Cyclops could use her help the most and ran over to him.

"Tag meh in the ring, Cyc?" Rogue grabbed his hand to help him up, while Gambit tossed some cards at Jean.

"I think we had better double team him," Cyclops suggested. "Jean and Kurt are getting tired, and the sooner we get this over with the better. Colossus taken care of?"

"Uh, yeah. He's down. Kit's watchin' him."

Cyclops was about to ask another question when a card exploded behind his head, knocking a tire down on top of the leader.

He was stunned but not out for the count and rolled out from underneath the tire.

"Finally, someone fresh to fight," Gambit commented when he saw Rogue had joined the fray. "I was gettin' a little woozy from dat stench sweaty Slim was given off."

"Ah'll make ya woozy," Rogue threw a punch to his face, which he dodged without a problem.

"Not yet, chere." Gambit swept his foot underneath her, knocking her to the ground. Rogue somersaulted backward and got back on her feet in a defensive position. "Ma Tante Mattie always told me dat I gotta take care of my old toys before I get to play wit' my new ones." Gambit jumped over to where Scott had just managed to get to his feet, and knocked him out with the blunt end of his bo staff.

"Now, let's take dis to somewhere more private, non?" Gambit smirked. "I don' want ma chere to be scalded by a stray fireball."

"How thoughtful," she replied, then tried to kick him in the chest. "But Ah kinda like it here."

"Too bad." Remy spun around and positioned himself behind Rogue before pushing her to the ground. "Tag, you're it!" he exclaimed and ran off.

Rogue got up onto her hands and knees and spat dirt out of her mouth. "Oh, that swamp rat's gonna pay." She pushed herself off the ground and took off after him.

* * *

Kurt was exhausted from bamfing, and John had him pinned by a filing cabinet and some other miscellaneous junk. Kurt reached his hand behind him and searched for some sort of weapon. His hand enclosed around something. He smiled and flung it outward toward Pyro, expecting it to be some sort of piping. 

"Ha ha," he exclaimed. Then Kurt noticed that he wasn't holding a pipe, but a plastic pink flamingo. He stared at the object. "What?"

John laughed hysterically and tossed a few more fire creatures Jean's way, since he had the time. While John was laughing, he had backed up a few paces, allowing Kurt to toss the flamingo aside and scan the junk pile for something else to use to extend his reach. He decided on a piece of vinyl siding and teleported it out from the pile.

"That's more like it." Kurt waved the piece of siding at the pyromaniac. John switched from two fire swords to one in his left hand.

The boys spared for a bit; each time Pyro melted a little more of the vinyl, until the fumes became a little too much for the guy.

"'I admit it, you are better than I am,'" John attempted to say in a Spanish accent (2).

"'Then vhy are you smiling?'" Kurt recited instinctively.

"'Because I know something you don't know.'"

"'And vhat is that?'"

"'I am not left-handed!'" Pyro laughed maniacally, switched his fire sword to his right hand, and extended it to make one last cut to Kurt's vinyl sword, right near his gloved hands. John ran up and put the fuzzy elf in a head lock.

"You're great! I can't believe you know all the words!" John said, as he gave Nightcrawler a noogie.

"Hey! Stop it!" Kurt flailed his arms, trying to hit John in the face. John laughed even harder at his attempts to escape, until Kurt's tail pulled out one of the gas lines on his flame thrower.

"Oh no, my baby!" John dropped Kurt and tried to plug the hose back in to prevent any more gas loss. Nightcrawler took the opportunity to kick the firebug into the pile of junk behind them. The pile shifted and settled.

"Hey! I called a time out!" John yelled and set the boy's tail on fire.

Kurt beat his tail against the ground in hopes of putting it out, but John would always restart it once he noticed, between tossing more fireballs at Jean. Kurt finally managed to get it out for a second while John was still preoccupied with Jean. The German launched himself from the ground and tackled the Aussie at the base of junk mountain. John got in one good right hook to Kurt's head, knocking the sense out of him. Nightcrawler stumbled backward and fell into the same junk mountain they had been disturbing.

The junk pile groaned behind Kurt and John. John looked up as large sheets of metal and appliances leaning over toward them.

"Oh, shit." He ducked and covered. After ten seconds of nothing, he looked up to see Jean Grey breaking a sweat while holding up the garbage.

"Get out! I can't hold it forever!" Jean screamed.

John grabbed the still stunned elf by the back his shirt and hauled him off to safety.

Jean let the appliances drop and passed out from exhaustion shortly after.

"You saved me?" Kurt wondered as he sat on the ground next to Pyro.

John reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette from his pack. "'I would as soon destroy a stained glass window as an artist like yourself.' You gotta be a pretty decent fellow to know _The Princess Bride_ by heart. (3)" He lit his cigarette with a flame he moved from some nearby smoldering ashes. He turned to Kurt and smiled. "'However, since I can't have you following me either . . . '" John hit Kurt on the back of his head with the discarded pink flamingo and knocked the fuzzy elf out. "'Please understand I hold you in the highest respect.'" (4)

The pyromaniac stood up, took a drag, and surveyed the scene around him. Jean passed out from exhaustion, Kurt KOed, and Scott was just beginning to stir from where Gambit left him. "Fun times," he said to himself and went off to look for his teammates.

* * *

"Ya've gotten slow, Gambit," Rogue remarked as her fist made contact with his shoulder. It hadn't taken long for her to catch up with the Cajun. 

"Non, I was just momentarily stunned by your beauty," he flirted and threw a couple of punches of his own.

"Stunned by beauty, mah ass," she said as she weaved in and out of his attacks.

"Exactly, ma chere." He winked at her.

She groaned at the comment she had walked straight into. "Ya know, if ya stop smokin' those cancer sticks, ya might be able ta last a little longer without bein' winded."

"You like a man wit a large lung capacity?" He picked up a piece of junk off the ground to block Rogue's punch to his chest. After she withdrew, he dropped the piece of junk down so he could see her better. "Good stamina?" Gambit joked again and quickly brought the piece of junk he was holding up to his face to block her next sucker punch.

"Would ya just shut up, an' let meh hit ya?" Rogue exclaimed as she rubbed her fist.

"Can' make it too easy for you," Remy replied, but threw the junk shield aside. They fought hand to hand in silence for a few seconds. Remy broke away to a safe distance and panted for a bit. _She's right 'bout those cigs. But d'ey taste oh-so good_. He stood up again and faced Rogue.

"'It feels more like we're dancin' d'an fightin','" Remy remarked as he dodged her punch and spun around to her back.

"'Ya think we'er dancin'?'" Rogue asked as she crouched down for a sweeping kick.

Remy easily jumped over her leg, grabbed her hand, and brought her face up to his. "'D'at's all we've ever done. (5)'"

Rogue replied with a knee to his groin. Remy groaned and knelt down. "Ya call that dancin'?" she asked.

"You play dirty, chere," Remy said once he regained his voice.

"What makes ya think I'm playin'?"

"You haven' even taken your gloves off," he pointed out and got up to resume their fight.

"Like Ah want ya runnin' through mah head," Rogue retorted.

He charged; Rogue tried to knock him back down with a kick to the stomach, but he caught her leg and threw her backwards. "How's dat any different from now? (6)" Remy got out his staff, extended it, then leaned on it.

Rogue blew a stray white hair from her face. She rolled backward and launched herself forward onto her feet. "Ya think Ah think 'bout ya?" She shuffled forward, then dodged a sweep Gambit made with his staff. She took her momentum and spun around into another kick, which the Cajun thief blocked.

"Oui. You might be d'inkin' 'bout decapitating me, but you're still d'inkin' 'bout me," Remy said as he used his staff to block her punches.

Rogue went into a backwalk over and successfully kicked the staff from his hands. She smirked. "Ah guess ya have a point, swamp rat."

Remy threw a few cards at her, which she dodged easily by some quick roundoffs. This put her closer to her opponent, which is what he wanted in the first place. Just as she finished her last round off, Gambit knocked her to the ground with a good kick. Before she could get up, he sat on chest and pinned her arms to the ground with his knees.

"Now look who's . . . " Remy started. He was interrupted by Rogue bending her legs upward, placing her boots on his shoulders, and flipping him backward to the ground.

"Ohhh," he groaned and tried to rub the back of his head. But Rogue was quick and got on all fours and pinned his arms with her hands and his legs with her shins.

"What were ya sayin' Cajun?" she asked, with the corner of her mouth upturned.

"Dis is more like it!" he smirked.

Rogue's smirk faded, and she rolled her eyes. "Ah shoulda broke your jaw first, so Ah didn' haveta listen ta ya yammer on," she chided herself.

"And ruin dis beautiful smile?" Remy gave her a grin for effect. "You wouldn' dare."

"Ya shouldn' underestimate meh, Cajun."

"So, now what?" Remy asked, after a few moments of silence.

Rogue around the junkyard. There wasn't anyone else in sight. _What am ah suppose ta do now? Call the cops an' have him arrested fo' trashin' a junkyard? This was a stupid mission. But Ah did get a good workout. Now Ah wish ah hadn' skipped lunch._

The X-Woman looked back down at her captive. "Ah'm kinda hungry. Ya wanna grab a bite ta eat?"

His eyes widened in the randomness of the question, but he wasn't going to refuse. "Love to, chere."

* * *

(1) Famous quote from the original _Star Trek_ said by Dr. McCoy (ha, I never realized that the _Star Trek_ doctor had the same last name of Beast!) to Captain James T. Kirk played by William Shatner. I'm the daughter of two Trekies, what can I say?  
(2) _The Princess Bride_ appears again. This conversation held between Inigo Montoya and the Man in Black atop the Cliffs of Insanity.  
(3) _The Princess Bride_ again.  
(4) And _The Princess Bride_ for the last time this chapter.  
(5) Last three spoken lines are from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ episode "Fool for Love" and are said between Spike and Buffy.  
(6) I'm pretty sure I've either read the last three lines of dialogue between the two early in the second X-Men comic series or heard them on TAS, but I can't find where exactly they came from. 


	3. See Spot Run

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Three: See Spot Run**

"So," Rogue filled the silence after the waitress had brought them water and taken their orders.

"So . . ." The silence returned.

"So. . .." And the silence remained.

"Let's try addin' another word to our conversation."

"Okay."

"See."

"See Spot."

"See Spot run."

"See Spot run far."

"See Spot run far away."

"Now that we're updated on Spot, how have ya been?"

"Not bad. Moved twice in de last two weeks; Petey's ear has been glued to de phone; John's been losin' his grip on reality; and I have been nominated as his lifeline."

"Did he win the million?" (1)

"Non, but it isn' just a 10 second phone call. If you d'ought he was crazy before, huh-huh, you are in for somethin' new. I have a new appreciation for BBC America and Nicktoons, 'cause now d'ere are at least a few times a day I don' have to worry 'bout takin' a lightnin' rod outta his hands."

"He's suicidal?"

"Not entirely. He's just really hurtin' from the Wanda thing. He's tryin' to occupy himself other ways and not considerin' things like reality."

"What _did _happen between him an' Wanda? She hasn' mentioned him in ages."

"Dat's 'cause she doesn' remember him."

Rogue didn't think she heard him right. "What?"

Remy took a drink. "Magneto decided dat she was causin' too much trouble for him. She wouldn' give him another chance wit d'eir relationship, so he had Mastermind fix up his first one for him. And, while he was at it, Mags d'ought he would teach John a lesson and erase all of her memories of him too."

"You're kiddin'?"

"Non."

"He actually screwed with his own daughter's mind 'cause he didn' like her boyfriend?"

"Oui. And de whole, 'I won' stop 'til I kill you, Dad,' thing."

"That's one dysfunctional family."

"Not anymore."

"What did Pietro do?"

Remy shrugged. "Don' know. Don' know if he even had any say in de matter. Magneto ordered him to get rid of anythin' of Wanda's dat would remind her of John or de asylum and to keep de Brotherhood quiet, but I don' know any more d'en dat."

"What would happen if she did see somethin'?"

Remy shrugged again. "Wanda got rescued 'fore Mastermind finished. He told Magneto he was done, but I have my doubts."

"Did ya ask him 'bout it? Mastermind, ah mean."

The Cajun nodded, then started to count on his fingers. "I asked nicely, got him drunk, threatened him, used blackmail . . .but I always end up in the same place."

"Nowhere," Rogue finished for him and leaned back in the booth.

"I wish," he mumbled before he thought about it.

"What do ya mean 'Ah wish?'" Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Where do ya end up?"

"Nowhere, like you said," he replied quickly.

"No, there's more ta it. Ya're holding somethin' back."

"Please let it go." Remy almost sounded like he was begging. This intrigued Rogue.

"No." After a few moments of silence, Rogue added, "Ah could be like Kitty and make up things 'til ya tell meh."

Remy tried to barter with nothing. "Only if you slip on d'ose pink hot pants you were talkin' 'bout." (2)

Rogue just looked at him.

After a few minutes of Rogue's scrutinizing glare, Remy caved. "All right, all right. You win. Every time I ask Jason 'bout it, I end up in Sabertooth's bed, naked." Rogue's eyes grew wide in surprise, and she struggled to hold in her laughter.

"Naked!" Rogue exclaimed, then burst out laughing. There was no containing it. Rogue laughed as the waitress brought over their food. Remy just fidgeted and picked at his potato wedges.

"Was Sabertooth ever there with ya?" Remy continued to play with his food without answering. "HE WAS!"

"Just de last time," Remy defended. "Been too scared to try again."

"Why don' ya just swipe one o' Magneto's helmets?" Rogue suggested. "He has ta have more than one. Then Mastermind couldn' use his powers on ya."

Remy looked up and stared at her, amazed. "Why didn' I d'ink of dat! Dat's a great idea! And dat's why I love you." And the moment after those words fell from his mouth, Remy's brain went into a panic, _F-you Freud! F- you and your slips! _Unsure if Rogue caught it, Remy didn't know if he should say something to cover it or totally ignore the words that fell like anvils on the table. He chose the latter option. "Dat's such a great idea!" he repeated. "Magneto's helmet. I knew d'ose d'ings were good for somethin' besides eattin' cereal out of." Remy searched her eyes for any clue to her thoughts.

"Ah hope ya wash them first," Rogue remarked. "Ah wouldn' want ta be eatin' sweat-flavored cereal." She picked up her cheeseburger and took a bite.

"So, dat's de funny taste!" Remy cracked. Rogue gave the bad joke half a chuckle before taking another bite. "Now you've hear 'bout my woes. What's new in your life?"

"Let's see . . . Evan left -"

"Who's Evan?"

"Storm's nephew. Black, skateboarder, basketball player, throws bones at people."

"Oh, him. I vaguely remember him."

Rogue filled him in on the situation with Pow-R8, Evan, the Morlocks, and Storm.

"Is dis Pow-R8 stuff still around?"

Rogue shook her head and washed down her food. "The Morlocks destroyed the factory here in Bayville, and the Professor told the owner 'bout the effects it has on mutants."

"Now de scoop on Evan is interestin', but I asked how _you_ were?"

"When Ah asked 'bout ya, all ya did was talk 'bout John," Rogue pointed out.

"You want to hear 'bout moi?" Remy put his hand to his chest and looked up at the ceiling to remember what he has been doing. "I decided dis last time we moved dat I wasn' goin' to unpack my stuff, 'cause I figure we'll be movin' again in another week. So I'm livin' out of a coupla garbage bags and some boxes. John screwed up all of my CDs and tried to take a couple of d'em to Mexico. I got a cold from livin' on dat frickin' mountain, and I'm really glad you're talkin' to me again 'cause I was runnin' out of ideas to annoy you wit'."

"Ah'm glad Ah'm talkin' ta ya again too," Rogue confessed to her plate of food. She looked up hesitantly before continuing. "Ah almost called after ya sent the pajamagram. . ."

"How did you like it?"

"Ah have ta say, Remy," she smiled a little, "ya have good taste in women's clothes."

"You didn' get dat from my Rocky ensemble?" (3) Remy changed the subject. "Are you goin' to go back to work at Vinyl Vintage after d'ey reopen?"

"They aren' gonna reopen," she said with sadness in her voice. "Jamal's movin' his family back ta Detroit so he can be closer ta his mother. Ah guess she hasn' been doin' too well lately, an' his business was the only thing keepin' them here. Sly got some job with a DJ company, Lucas is panhandling, an' ah have no idea what happened ta Warren o' Ashley o' anyone else."

"Ashley probably workin' de gates of hell," Remy suggested.

"Ah think she might be workin' ta get inta Castro's good graces so she can take over after he dies."

"That's a dumb plan. Everybody knows Castro's gonna be cloned 'til de end of time."

"Ah don' know," Rogue said thoughtfully. "Anyone that has ta spend a lot o' time with Ashley might wish fo' death."

"Good point."

"Oh, an' Sly's girlfriend Ania's working at that coffee shop downtown, Izzy's. Ah saw her there the other day after school." Rogue and Remy continued their casual conversation while they ate.

* * *

"Where is he?" St. John Allerdyce wondered as he sat on the ground with his back up against the rear tire of the Acolyte vehicle. After knocking out Kurt with the flamingo, John found Piotr wandering around the junkyard with Kitty Pryde. They had a brief exchange, and Kitty slapped John across the face and left. He and Piotr searched Jake's but found no sign of their Cajun pal. The pair headed back to the vehicle in the movie theater parking lot to change out of their uniforms and to lose Pyro's flamethrowers. "You don't think the X-Geeks got 'im, do you?" he asked.. 

"Hum?" Piotr knew the Aussie was talking to him, but his thoughts were in dreamland, replaying his conversation with Kitty.

"The X-Men? Have Gambit?" he repeated, sounding annoyed.

"Uh, no. I doubt that very much," Piotr answered. "The only one left was Rogue, and she would not turn him in."

"Don't be too sure, mate." John had his pessimistic face on. "Women can be very spiteful."

Piotr replied without thinking, "Rogue is not Wanda."

John's voice grew in volume and temperament. "Who ever said anything about Wanda? I didn't say anything about Wanda. Why do you always assume that when I talk about women in general, I'm talking about Wanda? Stupid bloke."

Piotr sighed, but didn't respond. Silence fell between them for a few minutes.

John managed to throw his ex-girlfriend from his mind. He felt his stomache growl. "I'm sick of waiting. And I'm hungry. Wanna go grab a bite?"

"I think we should wait for Remy."

"Wait for Cyclops to release him from his iron maiden, ya mean?"

"I do not think Cyclops would be one to own an iron maiden."

"The bloke wears a thong. That means all bets are off." (4)

"We should wait here for Remy," Piotr insisted.

"Should we try his mobile again?"

"He still has his phone turned off from the theater. We already left him a message."

"I want to eat," John reiterated before pouting in silence.

Piotr tried to initiate the conversation again, to pass the time. "Kitty said the funniest thing . . . "

"Look, Rusty," John interrupted. "If you start talking with those big hearts in your eyes, I might have to chunder (5)."

Piotr shut his mouth. After a few minutes, John sighed loudly and reached for his pack of cigarettes. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed. His pack was empty. St. John stood up with new energy. "I'm gonna go get some more smokes. Want anything? I might be able to find Kitty and buy back your manly dignity."

"No, I am fine," Piotr grunted. He slammed the car door to sit alone in the vehicle.

John paid his trite nature no mind as he walked a few blocks to a convenience store he had seen earlier. Outside the door of a beauty supply store, he dropped the empty pack he was playing with. When he bent down to pick it up, he was assaulted by someone rushing out of the store. They were both knocked to the ground. John's face landed next to a packet of bleach that had fallen out of the girl's bag.

"What the bloody hell?" he exclaimed. He turned over so he was sitting and to get a good look who knocked him down. The color left his face when he realized who she was. His eyes locked with her sapphire blues. He could tell she was surprised, and he could have sworn he saw a glimmer of the old, vehement Wanda when her eyes sparked, and her mouth opened to shout back. But she held her tongue and the spark left, if it was ever there.John felt an increasing tumble of emotions. Seeing her made his heart ache. He was hurt and angry that she didn't remember him. _We were a couple! We spent practically every minute together. We laughed, we ran, we fought, we saw each other when we were vulnerable. And she can't remember one thing! Not one bloody thing!_

Although he knew she was a victim in this just as he was, he was still mad, and he took it out on her. "Oh, it's you," he spat. "Picking up some hair product for your weaselly brother? I knew his hair wasn't natural. He wants to be just like Daddy-dearest, doesn't he?"

Wanda's eyes narrowed. When he had first knocked her over, Wanda wanted to shout at him for being in her way and for his rudeness, but her father taught her better than to disrespect other mutants. Apparently he didn't teach his minions to show the same respect. "It's for me. I'm not Pietro's errand girl."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize _you _wanted to look more like Maggie-pie. My mistake. I thought you liked looking original." He knew that would get to her. At least, it would bother the old Wanda. John tossed the beach packet at her for effect. He got up and continued his journey to the convenience store.

Wanda remained on the ground as she absorbed the insult. It was strange. Lately, she would have just turned the other cheek and ignored the imbecile. But when she saw him and heard the words come from his mouth, she felt something stir inside her. She felt natural, like her true self. Like, for the first time in a long while, she wasn't just floating through life, but actually participating in it.

That feeling faded as she watched St. John walk away from her. She wanted that feeling back. So she followed the pyromaniac with a new purpose. The Scarlet Witch was not going to let him off that easy. He was going to regret insulting her and her family. She scooped up the items that had fallen out of her bag and started to follow him down the street.

Wanda shouted down the street. "I'm not the one who works for him! If anyone is acting like my father right now, it's you!" It wasn't true, but she could tell Magneto was a sore spot with John and exploited it. He just ignored her and entered the store.

Wanda stomped up the to the door, but she noticed something on the electrical pole just outside. It was a half-covered flyer advertising the _Rocky Horror Picture Show_. She stared at the picture of the big red lips and Tim Curry in lingerie. She knew something was familiar about it. At first, she thought she must have seen the flyer somewhere else, but the sense of _deja vu_ was too strong. She wracked her brain trying to figure things out, totally forgetting about her altercation with the firebug inside the store. Her head throbbed as a few chaotic images flew into it: Red lipstick, the letter _v_, a broken pump, flying toast, electric-blue eye shadow . . . She was confused - what did all of these strange images mean? She ripped the flyer off the pole and squinted at the paper. _Why can't I remember? _

She grew frustrated, and the pain in her temples wasn't waning. Her free hand tried to massage the pain away, but it only grew worse. She groaned and bent over, crumbling the flyer in her hand as she brought it to her head as well. Traffic lights started flashing randomly, horns honked, a car alarm went off, and then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right, sweetie?" asked an older woman.

Wanda stood upright and got her bearings. The pain in her head dissipated. "Uh, yeah. I'm all right now. Just . . ." she trailed off, trying to remember what she was doing. She looked down at the crumpled poster and tossed it in a garbage can. "I'm fine."

"Okay," said the motherly woman, unconvinced but not nosy enough to press the matter further. The woman continued on her way, leaving Wanda in front of the store. She glanced through the glass door to see John at the head of the line, buying his cigarettes. Now Wanda remembered what she was doing. Wrath filled her.

With a menacing look, she hexed open the double doors. "What makes you think you can just ignore me when I'm yelling at you!" she shouted.

John looked up, shocked she had followed him. It was an unusual turn of events. He figured she and her lifeless eyes would just go on home. But he couldn't show her his surprise. "Oh, you again." He turned back to the cashier and grinned. He knew Wanda didn't remember him, but he wanted to make her hurt like he was hurting. So he decided to try and make her jealous by flirting with this random girl. "I like your flare." He pointed to the buttons on the cashier's vest (6). He leaned forward and squinted to read one conveniently near her chest. "'A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door,'" he read and laughed.

Wanda gritted her teeth. It wasn't all wrath that filled her now. Was that little bit that perked up jealousy? _No, couldn't be. I don't know him, why would I be jealous that he was flirting with some retail girl? I'm just upset that he isn't paying attention to me. I'm the one that has the power to make him miserable._

The cashier smiled back. "You're cute. I swear I've seen you before. . .Do you take classes as Bayville Community College?"

John shook his head. He tried a move he had seen Remy use a couple times. He put his elbows on the counter and rested his head in his hands. "Do you . . ." he started. Then a tray full of discarded pennies, encased in a sparkling blue glow, flew up into his face and mouth.

"What is your problem?" he yelled at the smirking Wanda. Although he had forced anger in his voice, he was secretly jumping with excitement that his plan had worked. It didn't matter that he didn't have a clue as too how.

"My problem!" she said in disbelief. She took a few steps closer to him, getting in his face. "You insult me and my family, then ignore me. I will NOT be ignored! You picked the wrong girl to mess with today, Pyro!" Her hands glowed.

"You want to go at it!" he shouted back. John embraced his anger. He whipped a cheap Bic lighter off the counter, and a curtain of fire swirled about him, then behind him. The customers in the store screamed, and the cashier backed up against the wall. "I kicked two X-Geek's asses today. I might as well add a Brotherhood girl to the list."

Wanda leaned forward and said, "You better check your list twice, because I won't be on it." Her words dripped venom. She was bathing in this passion she had rediscovered in his pesky presence. She looked him straight in the eye and wondered a little at the pain she saw behind them. Despite that, she continued to glare at him in silence.

He met and matched her stare, still in the anger stage. "Don't think a lowly pyromaniac can hurt the daughter of Magneto?"

"No, I don't think one can hurt an angry witch!" She was sick of him bringing up her father. She could take care of herself. She'd never hidden behind his cape before. Wanda didn't understand why John kept mentioned him. Like she wasn't her own person, but an extension of her father.

"According to those folks in Salem, burning at the stake is the best way to kill a witch." _The real Wanda would have thrown me into a wall by now_. He leaned forward a little more; their noses were almost touching now. "Would you like to be done original or extra crispy?" After those words fell from his mouth, he realized what he was doing and who he was egging on: A mutant who could probably pull his brains out through his nose. Not to mention a girl he would much rather be snogging. _I may have taken this a wee bit too far_. Regret, hesitance, and sadness passed over his face.

But the girl didn't notice. She was too involved in her own emotions.

Wanda wanted to shut him up with every bone in her body. But there was a conflict as to how. Part of her wanted to punch him in the mouth and knock out all of his teeth, then hex him into the beer cooler. The other part of her wanted to close in on the two inches between his lips and hers and shove her tongue down his throat. That part of her frightened her, mostly because she couldn't think of one good reason to be attracted to her father's henchmen, aside from his accent. Her breath quickened as her mind and body argued over what course of action to take.

Just before her mind relented and she gave into temptation, Wanda found herself in a cold shower. The smoke form John's fire had set off the sprinklers in the store.

The pyromaniac took a step back and looked up at the ceiling. "Why do you spite me? 'The Lord knows I'm not a cruel man.'" (7) He secretly thanked the sprinklers for their out. He didn't think he would really go through with fighting her. He didn't want to harm her; he wanted to be with her.

Perplexed at his Lord remark, Wanda commented, "I never pegged you for a religious guy."

"I call the cat Lord." (7) John looked around the wet store. "You know, I'm just going to leave now and save any dignity I may still have." He walked quickly past the witch and left the store. John jogged down the street, back to where he left Piotr. _That was rough. I really need a durry now. _John felt his empty pocket. _Bloody hell!_

* * *

Wanda stood there, not knowing how to react. A minute ago she was full of rage, passion, and frustration, not to mention unexplainable lust. Now she was wet and empty. Numb as she had been since that strange trip to Mount Ararose. 

Then John came back into the store. When she saw him, her emotions hit her like a mac truck. She was stunned and couldn't react.

"I decided to sacrifice my dignity for my smokes," he announced and snatched his pack from the counter.

All Wanda could do was follow his actions with her eyes. On the way out, he brushed up against her arm. She felt tingles again, but they quickly disappeared. She almost reached out to grab John's arm but was interrupted by the cashier screaming.

"I remember now!" the working girl exclaimed. John stopped with one hand on the door to hear what mystery she had solved. "You were on the news last week. You're the drunk guy who burnt down Starbucks!"

St. John did not have to look at the coffee addicts in the store. He could feel their angry eyes burning him. One grabbed a handful of individually wrapped cookies and began pelting John with them.

"GET 'IM!" the collective coffee customer base screamed. John gulped and took off down the street, followed by the coffee mob.

When St. John was out of sight, Wanda felt her passion fading. The loss of emotions upset her. She didn't want to go back to her blasé existence. She took it out on the following mob. Some of their shoes became untied and they fell on their faces. Others were attacked by their own clothes.

"Why are you helping him? I didn't think you liked him," asked one of the fallen.

Wanda released her fury. "I don't know." She was numb again. She didn't care the place was wet; she didn't care that she was soaked; she didn't care that the cashier was brandishing a cross at her, trying to exercise her from the store; she became neutral once again. Spinning on her heal, she left the store.

* * *

Halfway through their meal, a disturbance near the entrance of the diner caught Rogue's attention. She looked its way and frowned. Remy knew who had walked in the door just from reading the expression on her face. 

Jean Grey's hair was full of dirt and snarls. The tips of her red locks were singed, and ash was smeared on her face. Scott Summers tried his best to hide the pain of his bruised ribs as he hobbled down the aisle to Rogue's table.

Rogue gave them a look, then picked up her half-eaten fry and continued her meal. Remy followed suit. "Dis sure is a hot spot. We should pick somewhere more secluded next time." Jean and Scott had finally reached their table and stood at the end of the booth, towering over the couple.

Rogue ignored her teammates' presence. "Ah hear there's a good Mexican place that just opened down on Chicago Drive." Jean cleared her throat, but Rogue still didn't look up. "Golden Cactus, Ah think."

Scott finally opened his mouth. "What are you doing here with him?"

Rogue finally looked up. She feigned surprise. "Oh, hi Scott, Jean. How are ya? We're just here eattin'. Wanna join us?" The skunk-haired goth slid a foot toward the window.

Jean rolled her eyes. "I don't believe this."

"Ya told meh ta take him outta the fight," Rogue pointed out.

"I didn't mean to dinner!" Jean exclaimed.

"Actually I'm payin'," Remy interjected. Jean and Scott turned to stare at him as if they finally noticed he was involved.

"Had too." Rogue shrugged. "These damn battle suits don' have any pockets. Design flaw."

"Nothin's flawed from where I'm sittin', chere." The Cajun winked at the girl across the table.

Rogue tilted her head and smiled at him. "Too bad ah can' say the same."

"I'm beautiful and you know it."

"How do you go on like this?" Jean asked Rogue.

Rogue was getting irritated with Jean's vagueness. "Go on like what?"

"Like what goes on between the X-Men and Magneto's lackeys doesn't matter. Like it never happened," Jean explained.

Rogue put down her fry and looked the redhead in the eye. "An' what did happen today, Jean? Cause Ah sat there with Remy pinned underneath meh.. . ."

"D'ose were de days." Remy smiled and relived the memories in his head.

"An' no one else was around. Not ya, not Scott, not Kurt, not Kitty, no cops, no sirens, nothin'." Rogue continued to try and justify her actions, "No one cared dat Pyro was torchin' cars in an old junk yard. No one but us."

"The police were just too scared to come, because they can't handle mutants on their own," declared Scott.

"Smart cops," Remy remarked.

"They were breaking the law. Once we apprehended them, the police would have come to arrest them." Scott honestly believed.

"An' how long did ya want meh ta sit on top of Gambit? 'Til hell froze over an' the cops actually showed up?"

"I wouldn't have minded." Remy grinned at Rogue.

"And how do you stand his incessant flirting?" Jean asked, out of curiosity.

"Ya're right, Jean," Rogue said. "Ah would have gone insane before hell froze over. Maybe homicidal."

"Then why do you constantly chose him over us?" Scott asked.

"Ah don't chose him over anybody. We're just friends, that's all," replied Rogue.

"And what was leaving the battle to go on a date?"

"One, this is not a date. . ."

"Cough-denial-cough," Remy commented. A swift kick to the shins underneath the table was Rogue's response.

"Two, ya told meh Gambit was mah responsibility ta take out o' the fight, an' Ah did. Ah had already taken care of Colossus with Kitty . . ." Remy coughed again. ". . . an' ya only had Pyro ta deal with when Ah left. Ya mean two o' ya couldn' handle one insane pyromaniac?"

Scott gave her the information he got from the fuzzy elf after he regained consciousness. "He lit Kurt's tail on fire, then knocked him out with a lawn ornament."

Rogue showed her first sign of concern in the entire conversation. "Is he okay?" _Kurt's not here, did he have ta go ta the hospital_?

"Yes, he has a nasty bumb on his head, and he smells worse than Jean's burnt hair, but he's okay. He's waiting out in the car."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

"So you're concerned about Kurt but not about us?" Jean asked. "Or Kitty?" she added.

"Kitty's fine," Rogue reassured them if they didn't already know . The goth looked them up and down. "An' ya two look fine ta meh."

Jean interrogated her some more. "And how did you know that Kitty was fine? Colossus could have beaten her to a pulp after he broke himself out of whatever she stuck him in, instead of running away. You left her alone!"

"So Ah could come an' help your sorry ass!" Rogue stood up. She was fuming at the accusation that she would leave Kitty in danger. "Colossus was taken care of, an' Ah trusted Kitty ta be able ta handle it. If she had any trouble, she coulda called anyone o' us on the communicator ta come help."

"It is hard to call for help when you're knocked unconscious," Scott shot back.

"Or shut it off to go on a date," Jean added.

Rogue had had enough. "Sorry, Remy, but ah've lost mah appetite." She got up and pushed her way past Jean and Scott. "Ah'll see ya later."

She jogged over to the X-Jeep and knocked on the back window. Slowly, the tinted window rolled down to reveal Kurt holding a bag of frozen peas to his head, and Kitty with a smile on her face that no cleaning product could remove.

"Hi ya, Rogue!" perky Kitty called across Kurt to the open window.

"Uch, not so loud," Kurt complained.

"Ya okay Kurt?"

"I'll live. I'll shave every orange hair off that firebug's head for frying my tail, though." Kurt reached down and showed Rogue his blackened appendage. "He does have good taste in movies."

"He loves Douglas Adams too."

"I'll shave Z.B. in his head, then, (8)" Kurt groaned and slouched. Jean and Scott had finally crossed the street to the X-Jeep.

"Kitty," Rogue talked across the elf with the peas. "Was it wrong that Ah left ya there alone with Colossus ta go help Scott? Ah figured ya could handle a semi-conscious Russian half-phased in a. . . ," Rogue didn't want to counter whatever story she told Jean and Scott earlier.

"A steel barrel," Kitty winked and finished. "Yeah, I totally should have been able to handle it. I was far enough away that I could see him coming if he woke up and broke out. But I saw another rat at exactly the wrong time. You know how I, like, freak out when I see those . . ." Kitty shuddered. ". . . things. By the time I calmed down, he had broken out and ran away. I didn't even see where he went." The smile reappeared on Kitty's face.

"Ah just wanted ta make sure Ah didn' leave ya hangin' o' in danger o' anythin'," Rogue said to Kitty, but her face was turned toward the two who had just jumped into the front seat. Neither of them responded.

Scott started up the car. Rogue took a step back from the vehicle. Scott leaned back in his seat and called out the open window to Rogue, "Aren't you going to get in?"

"No, Ah don' think Ah will. Ah'm helpin' a friend in town dye her hair later, so Ah'll just stick 'round here 'til then." Rogue smiled and turned away. She crossed the street again and met up with Remy, who was just exiting the diner with two to-go containers in his hands.

Rogue took the top box from his hands. "Good, ya saved them fo' meh."

Scott stopped watching in his rearview mirror. He revved the engine and burned rubber as he headed back to the mansion.

"You're not goin' back wit' your friends?" the Cajun asked.

"Nope, too nice a day ta spend it arguin' with them." She opened up the box of food and took out a fry. "What are your plans fo' the rest o' the day?"

Remy smiled down at her. "You want to spend the day wit' moi."

"Not necessarily." Rogue took another bite of her boxed meal. "Ah have some time ta waste 'fore Ah go over ta Wanda's, so Ah just thought Ah'd see if ya were doin' anythin' interestin'. But if ya're not, Ah'll find something better ta do."

"Didn' have much planned. Me and the boys were goin' to see a movie, but John got us kicked outta de d'eater. D'en we went to the junkyard to blow off some steam." Remy paused as he organized his thoughts. "Should probably find 'em. Wanna come?"

"Ya know where ya're goin'?"

"I figure it won't take long for John to burn something. D'en I'll just follow de smoke." Remy forgot about his new cell phone in one of his many pockets.

They walked in silence for a bit.

"Any of de X's suspect anythin' 'bout Petey and the kitty cat?"

Rogue shook her head. "Jean might suspect something now. Can' hide too long under the nose o' a telepath. Amara knows, only 'cause Kitty took her with her and Peter when the went to the movies. But ah think the rest of the mansion is clueless. If Logan o' the Professor know, they ain't tellin'."

"It's gonna come out soon."

"I know." She paused. "He seems like a really sweet guy."

"He's de best. Cares a lot 'bout his friends and family. Do anythin' for 'em."

"Is that why he's with Magneto? To protect his family from him?"

"No, not from Magneto."

"Ah don't understand."

Remy sighed. He knew where this would lead, and he didn't want the subject of the conversation to come back to him. But he couldn't lie to the girl again. She deserved more that that. _More d'an me_. "D'ere are certain benefits, you might call d'em, for workin' for Magneto. He knows dis is a dangerous line of work, and he cares a lot 'bout family. . ."

"As evident by his brainwashing o' his daughter an' the neglect of his son," Rogue interrupted.

"I didn't say he was good at it. Just dat he cares, and he wants to make sure dat his employee's family don' get hurt or threatened or killed 'cause d'ey are workin' for him."

"So what does he do?"

"He has a couple of free agents watch d'eir families. Sometimes live wit' 'em. Protect 'em. Make 'em safe. The report back weekly and get updates on anyone to watch out for. Dat might be pissed at us."

"Nice benefits."

"Dental sucks."

"Ah still don' get why Peter would work for Magneto in the first place. His family wasn't in danger before he started workin' fo' him."

Remy rubbed his chin, wondering how much he should say on the subject. He decided to keep it focused on the Rasputins. "Petey thinks so. See, Petey's older brother was a mutant, too. One day, Petey came home late from school to find his house was on fire. Petey's powers came out, and he stormed inside. His parents and his grandfather were already dead. He found his little sister under a bed and his grandmother unconscious on the floor. He busted through a wall and hauled d'em out."

"Ah'm surprised Kitty didn' tell meh 'bout this."

"I don' d'ink she knows. Petey doesn't like to talk 'bout it. It took three shots of tequila and a pitcher o' beer to loosen his lips enough to give us dat."

"Who would do somethin' like that?"

"De government. Dey wanted to use his older brother for a weapon."

"But wasn't Russia a democracy by then?"

"Dey still had at least one of d'eir secret divisions left and crazies running it."

"Ah'm still confused. Why doesn' Magneto just keep the people watching his family on his team instead of taking Peter?"

"Sometimes he does pull them out for a mission here and dere, but usually not. D'ese people are more mercenaries d'an anythin' else. Magneto knows dey don' care 'bout his vision and would turn against him for a higher price. Sell info. Basically he doesn't d'ink he can control d'em or trust d'em."

"But what about John? He can't really trust him anymore."

"Mags keeps John around 'cause I convinced him it was best to keep his eye on him. Cut him loose and risk being exposed. Kill him and lose a valuable asset and the loyalty of me and Petey. He knows John won't ever raise a had to him. He's too scared and doesn't have enough vision to plan an effective attack."

"Oh," Rogue grew silent again, taking in all Remy was telling her. Then she asked the question he had been dreading. "Remy, is that why you are working - "

"Oh look." Remy pointed down the street. "D'ere's some smoke over d'ere. Found John-boy."

Remy started to jog down to the random place he pointed, but Rogue grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Why are you always avoidin' that question?"

"What question?"

"Jerk."

"D'at's a question?"

"No, that's a fact."

The Cajun sighed. "See, Remy's past is not a very happy, shinny subject. You just got to talkin' to me again, and I don' want to tell you anythin' dat might make you stop."

"Why would ah stop, Remy? What happened that scares ya so much?" There was a genuine concern and sympathy in her jade eyes.

"I'm not scared. I'm just . . . not ready to say anythin' yet. I could barely tell John. He still doesn't know everythin', but he knows more than anyone else."

Rogue tried to follow where Remy was going with this. "So Ah should ask John 'bout it?"

"NO!" he exclaimed. "I'll tell you. Just not today, okay?" He brushed a stray white hair from the middle of her face and looked her in the eye.

"All right. But it better not be years from now 'cause Ah might stop talkin' to ya again."

He nodded in agreement. "D'at's fair."

Remy turned to head to where he really saw smoke now. "His infamous signature. You comin'?" he asked when he realized Rogue hadn't begun to follow him.

She shook her head. "Naw. Ah think Ah'll just head over ta the Brotherhood early."

"I could give you a ride," he suggested. "Den you won' have to walk."

"Ah want ta walk. Gotta lot ta think about." Rogue turned to leave. "See ya later, swamp rat! Ah'll call ya.".

Remy smiled. He felt good. He felt fabulous. He felt he could walk on water. He looked both ways and jogged crossed the street. He turned down a cobblestone ally and saw someone that wiped all his good feelings away.

The blonde hopped down off the back of a parked car and smiled her signature sinister smile. "Long time, no see, LeBeau."

* * *

(1) In reference to the three lifelines you get on the game show, _Who wants to be a Millionaire?_  
(2) See Nine to Five: Chapter 18 - "I'm a Dead Cat Too"  
(3) See Nine to Five: Chapter 13 - "Something Like Rex Manning Day"  
(4) See Nine to Five: Chapter 11 - "Love is in the Air"  
(5) Chunder Vomit.  
(6) Nod to _Office Space_.  
(7) Quotes from the Ruler of the Universe in Douglas Adams _Restaurant at the End of the Universe. _  
(8) Zaphod Beeblebrox from _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy _by Douglas Adams had his brain messed with and signed his initials to it. 


	4. Ah gotta go, Poirot

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Four: Ah gotta go, Poirot**

A great anger filled Remy's voice as he addressed the blonde girl. "What are you doin' here?"

She played with the braids in her pony tail. "Aww. Can't a girl come and visit an old friend?" She smiled and fiddled an old-fashioned, cameo ring.

"We ain' friends."

The blonde faked a sob. "I'm hurt. And after all the time we worked side-by-side. You're one of the few people who actually met me in my first home; we even went out. 'Ain't friends.' I'm insulted. I even picked out this pretty new body for you and kept it around longer than I usually do, just to make sure you'd recognize me."

"I'll always recognize you no matter whose body you're in, Malice," he snapped. Remy turned to leave the girl's presence.

Malice used the body's powers to make a holographic image of herself in front of the Cajun (1). "But I found a pretty blonde and everything," the hologram whined. Remy stumbled and fell backward, thinking Malice was now in front of him. Malice removed the hologram and said, "I remembered that you almost always went for the blondes while the Fool went for the brunettes." Remy twisted his body around to see that Malice hadn't left her spot. "Imagine my surprise, seeing you running around drooling over a skunk-haired Goth."

Now the Cajun stood up and got into the girl's face. His lips were tight and his eyes burning, but he never said a word.

His intense stare did not affect Malice in the least. "Who is she? Has to be some prize to turn your head." Malice strolled casually to the corner of the building and peered around it. "Is she rich? Doesn't dress like it. You never did like the money, the preppies. I think that's why we connected way back when. So that must mean she's forbidden. She already engaged? Daddy says you can't have her? She playing hard to get? One thing's for sure, you don't deserve her. You always had a hunger for the fruit at the very top of the tree. Hardest to get, sweetest once you had it, too good for you."

"Stay away from her."

"You're threatening me?" Malice laughed. The sound sent shivers down the Cajun's spine.

Remy crossed his arms and smirked. "Non, just warnin' you. Dat's one girl you don' wanna mess wit'. She'll rip you a new one in more ways d'an you'd t'ink possible."

"I doubt that." Malice took a step back and looked the Cajun up and down. "It's amazing how much you've changed. And haven't. When Mystique called and gave us the tip that you were here is this pathetic excuse for a city -"

"D'at blue bi - !"

"Language, Rem-Rem," she chided him.

He grew irritated with her games. "Why de hell are you here again?"

"I'm not interested in you, if that's what you're thinking." Malice strutted over and put her hand on his chest.

"You're only interested in makin' people miserable. It's just a bonus for you dat it's me today." He brought up his hand and tapped her ring. It lit up, charged with kinetic energy. Malice struggled to get it off before it exploded.

Remy didn't hide his disappointment that she succeeded in removing the ring before her hand blew up.

She looked at the Cajun with a new hatred in her eyes. "You know that trick doesn't work anymore. And even if it did, there's no body for me to be sent back to." She made a new cameo choker around her neck.

"D'en why do you still make d'em? And don' t'ink I won' try and blow off your head next."

"As a signature. And to remind me of my old prison," Malice replied. It was her old face that appeared on the jewelry.

"You should be in prison."

"I forget: Are you the pot or the kettle?"

Remy had had enough of the reunion. He again tried to leave the alley, this time in the other direction.

Malice made a new hologram in front him. She wanted to get a reaction out of the Cajun, so he would stay and face her. "She doesn't know, does she?" it said.

The Cajun wasn't going to be fooled twice. He tried to punch the form and found his hand went right through her. He glanced back and smirked at Malice, walking right through her hologram.

Malice dissolved it. "Dammit," she said under her breath. "I need a better body. A more powerful one."

* * *

Rogue, lost in her own thoughts, was six blocks away when she remembered that she didn't have Remy's new phone number. _Why did ah have ta be so stubborn an' throw out all his notes_? She hurried back to where she last saw Remy. _Ah hope he didn' get too far_. 

The Goth looked both ways to cross the street. She caught sight of a blonde girl in the alley she had seen Remy turn down just ten minutes before. He was standing next to her. Rogue stopped looking for traffic and stared at the couple, mesmerized. She couldn't hear what they were saying over the whizzing cars. Remy put his hands on her waist, and the blonde girl lightly and intimately touched his face.

Rogue turned her head away. _Ah don' believe it_. When she looked up again, they were still standing close, whispering to each other. Rogue couldn't stand it anymore and ran back the way she had come. She ran the entire way back to the mansion. It didn't take as long as should have, but she didn't notice. Her chest and calves burned, but she ignored them. The images burned into her memory distracted from her physical pain. Never once did she look up to read the message Remy arranged to have written in the sky that day.

* * *

When she noticed the skunk-haired girl turn and run away, Malice made her hologram of Remy disappear. She smiled evilly. "Well, maybe these hologram powers do come in handy. It won't be too much trouble to keep her in the rotation a little longer. Another day, another life ruined." She looked at her watch. "I better hurry. I have work to do . . . as well as a few more people to destroy today to meet my quota. Sigh, there's no rest for the wicked."

* * *

"Oh my God, Rogue!" the Valley Girl exclaimed when the Goth entered the room. Rogue had taken a few minutes on the Institute grounds to catch her breath and compose herself before anyone saw her. _It's not like we were really datin' o' anythin'. We're just friends. _She frowned a little. _Why am Ah feelin' this way then? Just 'cause he told meh he loved meh. . . But that's takin' it outta context. He didn' mean he loved meh, loved meh. He meant it in a friendly way, right? _

Kitty was much too excited about her meeting with Piotr to notice Rogue's distance from the present. "You would not believe how great today was! I know you, like, had a horrible day at school, but didn't this afternoon totally make up for it! I got to see Piotr, you made up with Remy. . . Pyro was a jerk." A sour expression paused on Kitty's face before she continued bubbling. "He needs to get over himself."

"Huh? What, Kit?" Rogue methodically walked to her side of the room and sat down on her bed.

"Oh, Pyro found us later. He was being a idiot, like always. Wanda needs to suck it up and get back together with him for our sake. Take one for the team."

"She's not the self-sacrificing type."

"Well, then I'll just have to fix it myself or find him a new girl because if I hear one more vulgar comment come from his mouth, I'll..." Kitty grunted and punched her hand. "Did you hear what he said in front of Jean and Scott? I about died! I thought for sure Jean would figure it out! Lucky for me, he turned his sick mind to her next. If Jean stewed on that comment and read anything from me then, I'd be busted."

"Busted for what? Ah thought ya'll weren' datin'." Rogue searched under her bed for her book bag. _Drown mahself in pointless work that'll be unfairly graded. That'll keep mah mind off the swamp rat._

Kitty blushed. "We aren't. But we're still socializing. I doubt that will be smiled upon." She grabbed her laptop off the nightstand and started it up.

"Ah'd figure ya'd be used ta it, since ya dated Lance an' all." Closing her eyes, she pulled out a textbook. _Trigonometry. No. _That was just a test run. She closed her eyes again, and this time pulled out French II. She groaned and plopped it on her bedspread.

"It's not the same, Rogue, you know that. Plus, everyone knew Lance; he went to school with us. No one really knows anything about Peter besides you and me."

"Don' forget Amara."

"But she doesn't know who he is. She doesn't, like, know he's Colossus." Kitty took her eyes off her roommate and started working on her computer.

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Yah, she does."

Kitty paled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that she knows that Peter is Colossus."

"But how?"

"Kitty, what do ya think Logan does with the newbies in the Danger Room? Do ya think they fight fuzzy bunnies?"

Kitty began fidgeting on her bed. "Ohmygod, ohmygod! She knows! She knows! What am I going to do? This means that Jamie knows too!"

Rogue tried to calm her friend. "Settle down! Ah think ya can trust Amara an' Jamie not to say anythin'. They haven' said anythin' yet, have they?"

Her roommate took a few deep breaths. "You're right. You're so right, Rogue. I'll just mention something to them to make sure they know it's top secret and not worry about it. Wow, that was scary."

"You're tellin' meh."

There was a small lull in their conversation, so Kitty renewed a previous topic. "Back to my mission to get Pyro a girl so he'll stop harassing me and Peter. Hey, you're Wanda's friend - do you know what they fought about? Peter won't tell me. He says its not his business to tell people. He's so considerate. He won't divulge his friend's problems without their permission." Kitty smiled at the sweetness of her psuedo-boyfriend.

"Ya're lucky Remy doesn' feel the same way, or ya'd be up a creek without a paddle where John's concerned."

"Wanda didn't tell you?"

"Nope. She couldn't."

"Why not?"

Rogue told her the story. She even tied it into Kurt's rescue mission with Toad.

Kitty was almost speechless. "No way."

Rogue nodded and turned back to her translation.

"That's so...so... I didn't think that stuff happened outside of soap operas."

"_As the World Burns_."

"I can't believe it. They were so happy together, and then it all went away. Now I can understand why he's been such a jerk. It's no excuse, but I understand a little better. They were together for such a short time. Can you imagine? You find your soul mate only to have them ripped away from you a couple weeks later?"

Rogue could imagine, although she wished she couldn't. She still wasn't ready to admit to herself that she had been thinking about Remy as more than a friend. Nor how seeing him with the blonde affected her. _He's free ta see other girls. Ah mean, girls in general. He can date men fo' all Ah care. Not meh, though, 'cause Ah'm not datin' him. Ah wonder if that was his ex-fiance. Ah think he mentioned once that she was blonde. But Ah thought she didn' really care 'bout him. That's not what it looked like ta meh. But it wouldn' have been the first time he lied ta meh. _ Rogue started to get mad at the philandering Cajun for a reason she could accept: Lying. _Ah'll give him a piece o' mah mind next time Ah see him. He won' know what hit him._

Having resolved her course of action, Rogue tuned back into Kitty's speech. ". . . my room for weeks. It really puts things into perspective, don't you think?"

Without knowing exactly what Kitty was referring too, Rogue made a non-committal noise.

Kitty accepted that as a response and continued. "I mean, how much time do we really have before something sudden and drastic changes it all. Actually it doesn't have to be sudden. . .In a few years I'll be graduating high school and going off to college. I'm definitely not going to Bayville U like Jean and Scott. But that's not the point. The point is, what happens then? To everyone I've gotten close too. Will I keep in touch? Will I come back here on vacations, or will I spend all my vacation time with my parents?"

The phone rang, interrupting Kitty's philosophical discussion with herself. Rogue reached over and pulled the cordless phone off the nightstand where Kitty had left it.

As Rogue conversed, Kitty's mind wondered back to her topic of discussion. _And what about the people I haven't gotten close to? The ones I've put off or been to scared to take the next step with? What if I, like, put it off for too long?_

"Ah'll be right over!" Rogue shouted urgently and hung up. She jumped off her bed and frantically threw things into her bookbag.

"What's going on?" Kitty asked.

"Ah forgot Ah was supposed ta go ta the Brotherhood and dye Wanda's hair. Ah'm late. Ah hope Jean'll let meh borrow her car." Rogue flung on her boots but didn't bother tying them.

"Didn't you already do that? I thought that was why you stayed in town to begin with." Kitty gave Rogue a scrutinizing gaze. "Something happened between you and Remy, didn't it? You forgot and came home, because you had a fight or something. Rogue! Why did you let me babble on and on about rhetorical relationships when you obviously needed to talk about something in your own life?"

Rogue ignored the question, but was impressed at Kitty's deduction skills... belated deduction skills, anyway. "Ah gotta go, Poirot (2). See ya tonight."

"But Rogue!" Kitty pleaded, but Rogue slammed the bedroom door. "Some friend I am," she said to herself. "There's no use in dwelling on it now. I'll just have to work extra hard to get the story out of her when she gets back. Nothing left out. Not this time."

Her thoughts moved on from Rogue's dilemma back to her little discussion on time and relationships. It was a wake up call. She has to grab life by the gonads and commit herself to something. Not literally, of course. But if this relationship could make her happy, she shouldn't be puttingit off because she's scared or unsure. _How am I going to know if I don't try_?

Kitty moved her laptop aside and got off her bed. She searched for the cordless among Rogue's mangled sheets and blankets. With the phone in her hand, she took a deep breath and dialed a number. It rang. And rang. And rang. Then success!

"Hello." She heard a deep Russian voice.

"Hi Piotr! It's Kitty - "

"I am unable to answer the telephone - " It was Piotr's voice mail.

Kitty heard St. John's voice interrupting. "Mobile, Petey. It's called a mobile."

Piotr started again. "Hello. I am unable to answer the mo-bile. Please leave a message. Thank you." Then the recording became quieter. "How do I end it?"

John's voice came on again. "That's it? That was a pretty lame greeting. Let me."

"No! Just tell me how to end it."

"You can't have a lame greeting like that in this day and age. Let me try. I'll do my Swedish Chef impression. (3)"

"No. Let go of the tele - mo-bile! St. John!"

"You'll love it; I swear! . . . BEEP!"

It took a second for Kitty to realize the message finally ended, and she was supposed to say something. "Uh, hi, Peter. It's me, Kitty. Listen, I just wanted to talk to you about something. Something I've been thinking about. So call me. Call me when you get this message. Thanks. Talk to you later!"

Kitty laid the phone back on the nightstand and fell back on her bed. "Great. Now when he calls I have to work up all that courage again. Just great." She hid her head in her pillow.

* * *

The doorbell rang at the Brotherhood House. After accepting the deafness of his housemates, the unofficial door opener performed his duty. 

"I know some day you'd be crawling back to us," Lance Alvers told Rogue.

Rogue continued to stare at the back of the door while she addressed Lance. "Yeah. I couldn't call it home without Toad's familiar stench. Hey," she pointed to the black hinged object, "didn' the front door used ta be brown?"

"I thought it was more of an apricot."

"It was salmon!" Fred Dukes yelled from the kitchen.

"No one asked what you had for dinner, Blob!" Lance shouted.

"You're in a good mood," Rogue commented. Lance shrugged and let Rogue walk past him inside the house.

Freddy didn't get the joke. "Salmon's a color, too!"

"Wanda upstairs?" Rogue asked, although she was almost positive of the answer.

Lance nodded and headed to the living room. "Open a window this time, would you!"

The Goth trudged upstairs and knocked on Wanda's door. "It's meh."

"Come in," Wanda called. She grabbed a plastic bag off the floor and met Rogue at the door. "You got here fast."

"Ah accidentally bumped inta Sam on the way out. Figured Ah might as well fly over."

"Convenient."

"Accident."

The two headed to the bathroom.

"Red again?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow to her. "Is there any other color?"

"Ya want me ta cut it again?"

"Will I have another cow lick?"

"Accident"

"You've been having a lot of these accidents lately."

"Ah'm sorry Ah forgot, okay? Geez, Ah already apologized on the phone."

"But it's good to hear you say it," she said and half-smiled. On the inside, she didn't feel any better. Or worse, for that matter. But she had hoped that it would. She knew she was wronged and that demanded an apology. Like when she and Pietro fought, Father would always make them apologize to each other.

"Let's get down ta business then." They brought a chair into the small room, and Rogue set forth. They were both lost in their own thoughts about the events that occurred that afternoon.

Wanda was the first to break the comfortable silence. "What do you know about Pyro?"

Given what she had learned earlier, the question surprised Rogue. So much that she was very glad she was not cutting hair at the time, or Wanda would have gotten another cow lick. Rogue wondered if Wanda did remember something. "Pyro?"

"Yes, that's what I said."

"Why are ya askin' meh 'bout St. John?"

"I'm not Kitty, so stop playing the dodge and evade game with me. What? Are you cheating on Remy with John or something?"

"NO!" Rogue exclaimed. "Ah mean, fo' one, Remy an' Ah would have ta be datin'. And two, Ah would have ta be interested in John."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I didn't realize you were still in denial about Remy. You need to wake up."

"Ah'm not in denial."

"Yes, you are."

"Aside from those stupid messages he was sending meh, Ah haven't mentioned Remy since ya got back. How can Ah be in denial?"

"Exactly. You didn't curse him or rant about his stupidity. You didn't do anything a normal person would do if they had just been betrayed."

"What? Like try an' kill him?" It was a jab at Wanda, but she didn't know it. "An' ya do realize that ya used the word 'normal?'"

"You know what I mean. You haven't done anything, because you have feelings for him, and you wanted him to come back and explain himself."

"Ah didn' do anythin', 'cause Ah don' hold grudges like that."

"Liar."

The conversation was opening fresh wounds Rogue thought she had taken care of while Kitty was talking to herself. "Can we talk 'bout somethin' else now that ya've got that off your chest?"

"Yes. Tell me what you know about St. John."

"Australian, controls fire an' is obsessed with it, knows more movies by heart than Ah knew existed, an' is about the most random person Ah've ever met. Not the brightest crayon in the box, but usually a funny guy, in a weird, obscure, an' random sorta way. But not lately."

"Why not?"

Rogue was not going to get caught telling Wanda something she didn't remember. Telepathy had always made her uneasy, especially memory manipulation. From her short times as a telepath, she had learned there were so many things that could happen in the mind. Rogue didn't want to reveal something she shouldn't, even if all Wanda would do was deny it happened. Until Remy figured out what all Mastermind did with her mind, Rogue was going to try and remain tight-lipped on the subject. "No. First ya haveta tell meh what sparked this sudden curiosity."

Wanda sighed and rolled her eyes. "I saw him today. I was picking up dye, and I ran into him on the street. Literally."

"And?"

"And what?"

"There was no spark there. That isn' enough ta intrigue ya. Especially lately."

Wanda didn't understand that last comment. She turned her head around to see Rogue in the mirror. "What do you mean?"

"It means ya're leavin' somethin' out."

"No. What do you mean by 'especially lately?'"

Rogue hesitated. "Ya just haven' been yourself. More distant than usual. Like ya're missin' somethin'."

Wanda looked down at her hands. "I didn't realize anyone noticed."

"Ah think most everyone's noticed; they just don' know what ta say 'bout it."

Wanda didn't say anything. Why was she lost all of a sudden? What happened to her? Did anything happen to her? Or was this just everyday teenage depression? Was it depression? She didn't really feel all that low either. "The last time I felt like myself was this afternoon, when I ran into Pyro. And I can't remember a time before that."

Rogue found that particularly interesting. _It doesn't sound like Mastermind finished the job at all. But what will happen when it falls apart?_ Rogue needed Remy to find out, before something bad happened. Returning to the conversation, Rogue asked, "That why ya wanna know more 'bout him?"

"Yes, I suppose."

Rogue sighed. Wanda needed Rogue to be honest with her and give her the information she asked for. "John hasn' been himself lately because he had to break up with his girlfriend."

"That's it?"

"No." Rogue paused, forming the right words to proceed. "He didn' just break up with his girlfriend. She forgot 'bout him. Ah guess ya could say she has amnesia an' doesn't remember any o' the time they were together."

"That has to be rough."

Rogue nodded and focused again on Wanda's hair. "Ah don' know what else ya wanna know. Ah think Ah hit all the big points."

"Thanks." Wanda sat in reflection for a bit. "It must have been something else then."

"Something else, what?"

"There must have been something else going on that made me feel that way." Wanda snorted. "It was stupid to think it was him. I met him only once before. Maybe it was something I ate."

Guiltily, Rogue stared intently at Wanda's hair instead of the Witch's face in the mirror. "Maybe," she muttered. The topic was not touched on again.

* * *

Lance leaned up against the Brotherhood house underneath the open bathroom window. He checked his watch and sighed. 

"As juicy as this gossip is, I'd better be getting back to Essex with these samples before he wets himself. I'll have more time to learn and meddle tomorrow," said Lance, or, more rightly, Malice. He/she bent down to grab a small paper back containing several ziplock bags.

Lance/Malice sauntered to Lance's jeep and hopped in the driver's seat. He/she buckled the seat belt and turned around to look at the girl bound and gagged on the backseat floor. Lance/Malice smiled at the blonde girl. Her eyes went wide, and she put new energy into breaking her bonds and escaping.

The possessed mutant laughed. "Di (1), I can call you Di, right? I will anyway; I just ask as a courtesy. Di, you've been with me nearly a month. By now you should know that you're mine until I get tired of you. I just needed some information from this guy's memories and some DNA samples for Essex. I couldn't do that looking like you do. A pretty girl like you knocking on their door would raise all sorts of suspicions and red flags. But my work's all done now. We can head home. You can sit in the pens with the others tonight; I'll use someone else. Maybe I'll even go out and get you a new friend. Any requests?"

Lance/Malice reached in his/her pocket and pulled out a jackknife. Diamonda LaSalle froze in fear. Lance/Malice reached around and cut the bonds around the girl's wrists. Diamonda scrambled to open the door, but Malice was faster. She jumped out of Lance's body and her olive colored aura entered Diamonda, taking over.

Diamonda/Malice heard Lance groan and quickly slipped out the backdoor, grabbing the paper sack on her way. Malice rolled underneath the Jeep and untied the bonds around her feet and pulled off her gag.

"Uh, what a weird dream," Lance remarked. He massaged his aching head. "Wanda better not have taken all the aspirin again." He unbuckled his seatbelt, put the Club on his steering wheel, and headed into the Brotherhood Boarding House.

Malice crawled out from underneath the vehicle. She briefly considered stealing the Jeep for fun. According to what she skimmed of Lance's memories, it was a pretty regular occurrence. But she decided to stick to the original plan and walked to the pick up point to wait for the Fool, as she called him. _Bastard. Why Essex assigned him as team leader after Gambit left, I'll never know. I should be in charge. I've worked for him longer, and I do more work. Maybe after this job, Essex will realize how much more valuable I am and give me my due. _Malice smiled and dreamed of that day.

* * *

(1) She's in an Evo version of the 2099 Universe's Sham/Diamanda LaSalle who can bend nearby light and sound waves to make convincing audio and visual illusions. I didn't read the books, just looked up her profile on UXN. The real version didn't have hair, so I took a few liberties to pull a fast one on you. heheheh...  
(2) Hercule Poirot is one of Agatha Christie's most famous detectives from her novels. He is often featured on the PBS show _Mystery!  
_(3) The Swedish Chef is one of the Muppets. A damn funny one, at that. Fozzy's still my favorite, though. Wakka, wakka, wakka! 


	5. Gone Crazy, Be Back Later

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

**A/N:** Finally ff. net agreed to cooperate! I have been getting pretty regular with my updates (thanks to Skysong) and was a little miffed that I couldn't upload anything. So without futher adu, here's Chapter 5!

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Five: Gone Crazy, Be Back Later **

The three Acolytes dragged themselves through the heavy doors of their warehouse base. The only sound was the door slamming behind them. Usually the boys would take the stairs to their floor, not wanting to wait for the creaky, old elevator that would stop between levels. But they were all in the same state of mind as they silently shuffled to the double doors. St. John leaned forward and pressed the button.

Ding. The right door opened while the left shuddered and stopped halfway. One by one, Remy, John, and Piotr stepped up into the deathtrap. Piotr pressed the floor button and the close door button. The doors creaked and, with a kick from Piotr, they closed. They slowly ascended.

John was first to expend the energy to speak. "'That was an adventure. Singed a bit, were you?'" (1)

"Shut up, John," Remy snapped. "I spent de last hour runnin' around tryin' to lose a mob and de cops, 'causa you. Not to mention de shit dat went down before dat."

"I'll weld the car back together tomorrow."

"I said, 'shut up.'"

John turned his head to face the Cajun. "Huh, Remy, did you say something? You're gonna have to talk in my other ear. That one's still ringing from earlier. Who woulda guessed that Tiny Tim could hit that hard?"

Remy hid his face in his hand. "Never mind."

"WHAT? I know you said something that time. I saw your mouth move."

Ding. The elevator doors opened. The boys bent down and jumped two feet to the ground.

John ran around to Remy's other side. "Okay, now you have my good ear. What did you say?"

Remy headed to the kitchen. "I need a drink. What do you want?"

John shook his head and stood up proudly. "Not tonight! Tonight I'm writing. I've been inspired." John turned off from the group and bounded with a new found energy to his room.

"What's up wit' him?" Remy opened a cupboard and pulled out a few fifths and glasses. He went to the freezer and filled the glasses with ice.

"He saw Wanda at the store."

The girl's name reminded Remy that his day was not quite over. He still has to interrogate Jason. He sighed and added little more liquor to his drink. "Really? What happened?"

"They yelled at each other."

Remy pointed to the ice filled glass and asked, "Want your usual?" Piotr nodded. Remy started filling the container with liquid. "Did she remember anythin'?"

"I do not believe so. John was happy that she was almost herself." Piotr took the drink from Remy and sipped it.

"At least he's not mopin' 'round anymore." Remy turned from Piotr and looked in the direction of their rooms. "I hope it lasts. I'm gonna talk to Jason again. See if I can get anyt'in' out o' him." Remy downed half of his drink.

"Good idea to try when Sabertooth is away."

"No need. My plan is fool-proof tonight. I won' be wakin' up in anyone's bed but my own." Remy thought about his last statement. "But I won' complain if I end up in de bed of a beautiful woman."

"Would not Rogue be upset?" Piotr asked.

Before Remy could respond, a single beep came from Piotr's pants. For a second, Piotr looked down in confusion, but he didn't pull out his cell phone. Remy leaned back against the kitchen counter. "You gonna get dat?"

"Get what? Do you need something?"

Remy pointed lazily to the Russian's pocket. "Your phone. You have a message on it."

"Oh, that is what the noise means?" Piotr pulled the phone out of his pocket. It looked miniature in his large hands. The steel giant fumbled with it until Remy showed him how to access his voice mail. As he listened to Kitty's message, Piotr's eyes lit up, then grew concerned.

"What's wrong?" Remy asked.

"Kitty sounded very nervous. She wants me to call her." Piotr finished his drink with Remy and put his glass in the sink. "Excuse me, Remy. I want to call her back."

"No problem, mon ami." Remy also finished his drink and considered pouring himself another. He reflected on his day and that still to come. Without any further hesitation, he grabbed a bottle of liquor.

* * *

Piotr entered his room and looked under the bed and in the closet before closing the door. Then he remembered the warning sign Remy suggested he make to keep John away. He took out his drunken sketch of a fire fighter and taped it to the outside of his door. 

The Russian settled on his bed and dialed the number for Xavier's Institute. Someone picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

A young man answered. "Xavier's School of Taxidermy. You kill it, we stuff it. Today's special is - "

Another voice interrupted him. "Hello? Bobby, will you knock it off! I can't believe you answer the phone like that!"

The Acolyte recognized the new voice. "Uh, hello, Kitty?"

"Oh, so this is your new secret boyfriend," the New Mutant teased.

"Get off the phone, Bobby!"

"But this is so much more fun than throwing things in Sam's hair until he notices."

"But is it, like, funner than having vibrating pagers phased into your torso?"

"Who uses pagers anymore?"

"Bobby. . ."

Bobby let out an angry meow, then hung up.

Kitty let out an exasperated sigh. "Finally! Hello, Piotr? Are you still there?"

"Yes, Kitty. I am here."

Kitty heard a click and extra breathing. "I don't care who you are, but you had better get off the phone before I get really angry."

"Will you turn green and break things?" the punk Ray couldn't resist asking. The other New Mutants laughed in the background.

"I warned you!"

The uninvited kids on the line continued to laugh.

"I'll call you back." Kitty hung up her phone and ran through the mansion to dole out some punishment.

Piotr hung up the phone once he heard the dial tone. He sighed, but he did not have to wait long.

"Hello, Piotr? Sorry about that. Did I mention how much I appreciate being an only child growing up? Nosy little jerks. But it's okay now. I collected every single phone in the mansion, so they won't be able to listen in."

"Okay." He paused. "You can be frightening when you want to be. I have never heard you like that, except with John."

"Thanks, I think," Kitty replied. "It's not I'm like that all the time. Just when my friends or my privacy are threatened, that's all. So..." her voice trailed off.

"You called, wanting to speak to me about something. It sounded important."

Kitty nervously played with her hair. "Oh, yes. It is. I...I just don't know how to say it."

Piotr's heart sank. This could mean nothing good. Maybe she got in trouble and couldn't talk to him anymore. They found out she was talking with him, and she was expelled. She was moving back to Chicago. She was getting back together with Lance. She -

"Peter? Are you still there?" came Kitty's nervous voice.

"Yes. I was thinking."

Kitty was glad of the new subject matter. "Thinking about what?"

Piotr shifted his phone from one hand to the other. "Nothing. Silly things. I was making guesses about the important news. None of them were good."

Kitty hadn't realized the negative conclusion that could be drawn from her hesitation. "Oh, Peter, no. It's not bad news. It's good news!" The last sentence had a refreshing perkiness to it.

The Russian was relieved, yet confused. "But if it is good news, then why are you frightened?"

"I'm not frightened. Well, maybe I am. But it's like the scared feeling you get between answering a teacher's question and them telling the class it's right. I'm kinda going out on a limb here, and I don't want to fall off."

"You are climbing trees?"

"No, silly. It's a figure of speech. See, I want to ask you something, but I don't know how you'll respond. One way could make me really happy, and I stay perfectly balanced on the limb; the other way I slip and fall miserably and hurt my butt."

"I do not want you to fall and get hurt. Do you want me to stand under the tree and catch you if you fall?"

Kitty blushed and smiled at the imagery. Her confidence was refreshed. "That's so sweet and poetic! Do you want to go out with me, Peter? On a date? A real date?"

Piotr gulped. "A real date? Like Rogue and Remy?"

"Yes, but without the denial on Rogue's part. I just. . . Rogue told me what happened with John and Wanda, and I don't want to miss my chance to be with you. I don't want to wake up one day and realize that all that time I thought I had was gone. So. . . do you want to go out with me?"

"Yes! Yes, definitely!"

"Great!" Kitty jumped up and down. "I have the perfect idea for a first date too! Are you busy tomorrow afternoon?"

"Tomorrow, uh, no. I do not believe so. I have some training exercises, but those are in the morning."

"Great! Can you meet me in front of the BAM at 3:30?"

"The bam? I do not know what that is."

"Oh, silly me. It's the Bayville Art Museum downtown. You take the first letters of the words, and it makes BAM."

"I see. Very clever."

"So I'll see you there at 3:30? Great! See you then! And bring your walking shoes!" Kitty hung up.

Piotr did likewise and remained in shock on his bed. He asked himself if the phone call really happened. Then he pinched his arm like he had seen John do many times to make sure it wasn't a dream.

"Oww! That hurt," he said, resolving never to do it again.

In a daze, Piotr emerged from his room with a grin a mile long. Remy was still in the kitchen mixing drinks.

Remy returned the smile and nodded his glass at the Russian. "Looks like it was good news after all, non?"

"We are going to date now."

"Congratulations, Petey!" Remy threw down his drink and stood up. "This deserves a toast!" Remy looked about the room, trying to remember where they kept the glasses.

"No, thank you," Piotr declined. "Did you already speak with Jason?"

"Who?"

"Jason, Mastermind. I thought you had a fool-proof plan to ask him questions about Wanda."

Remy squinted as if reading a faraway sign. "Oh, yeah. I was. Nope, not yet. After dis last drink."

"How many last drinks has it been?"

Remy looked with a hint of sobriety at his friend. He did have a point. The buzzed Cajun set down his glass and got to work.

* * *

A single lamp was lit in the makeshift bedroom. Jason Wyndgard sat in a chair and flipped another page of _David Copperfield_. He had enjoyed the quiet afternoon with the other Acolytes gone. Even though the boys were in a separate wing, their noise could sometimes be heard throughout the warehouse. Not to mention the mess they'd leave in the kitchen when they'd attempt to cook something. 

The iron back doors of the warehouse slammed, announcing the end to Jason's quiet afternoon. He sighed and turned on some Vivaldi to muffle the yelling and slamming of doors. _Have they never heard the concept of inside voices?_

The boys quieted down in about fifteen minutes. Jason looked down at his stomach as it rumbled. He resolved to go down to the kitchen after he finished the chapter. The boys wouldn't begin their nightly booze fest for another couple hours, so he could be in and out without making any contact. They had grown especially annoying lately. Particularly Gambit with his questions. But Gambit hadn't approached him since the last incident, and Jason prayed that he had finally learned.

There was no knock on his bedroom door. Jason just happened to glance up to see the familiar shadow of his helmeted boss in the doorway.

Jason fumbled with his bookmark and stood up. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realize you would be back so soon. What do you need?"

The shadow chuckled. Jason took a closer look at it: Instead of a cape, the person in the doorway was wearing a long jacket, and instead of glowing white eyes, they were red.

"Gambit?"

Gambit stepped out of the shadow and into the lamplight. He laughed and mocked a deep voice, "Non, wrong again. I am de Ghost o' Christmas Future."

"The Ghost of Christmas Future doesn't talk."

Gambit strode into the room, still a little tipsy, and flopped down on Jason's bed, putting his feet up. "You got me again. You're good at dis guessin' game even when you can' use your telepathy. I want you on my team next game night."

Jason remained standing and crossed his arms. "Get your dirty feet off my bed."

"Where's de love?" Gambit asked but obliged.

"Now why are you in my room wearing that ridiculous helmet?"

"I'm going to ask you some questions. I'm even goin' to ask nicely. And you are goin' to tell moi, and I'm not goin' to wake up in Sabertooth's bed." Remy tapped his "borrowed" helmet.

Jason sighed and fell into his reading chair. "I wondered when someone would give you the brilliant idea of stealing one of Magneto's helmets for something other than eating out of when you don't want to do dishes."

"Nobody gave me dis idea. I came up wit' it all on my own," he lied.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Just ask your foolish questions and leave, so I can get back to my book."

"Tell me what everything you did to Wanda."

"That's not a question."

"I'm sorry, Alex (2). What the hell did you do to Wanda's head?"

"I did what Magneto asked me."

"Which was?"

"Alter her memories so that instead of spending her childhood in the asylum, she spent it with her loving father and brother. Then, at the last minute, he asked me to eliminate her relationship with Pyro."

"What do you mean 'eliminate'?"

"I brought up every memory she had of him and locked them away in her mind."

"How would someone unlock these memories?"

Jason's face grew dark. "That is a bad idea."

"A bad idea for you? Or a bad idea?"

"You know nothing about telepathy, do you?"

"I'm pretty good at guessing weights. Does that count?"

"Good. My best wishes for you and your carnie career."

"And leave dis cushy job where I'm loved and respected? Never. I'll take telepathy for $800, Alex."

Mastermind rolled his eyes and fingered his book on the nightstand. "When a telepath permanently alters a mind, he leaves a mark. A trail. And when he is afraid that his work might be messed with, he can lay obstacles virtually impassable to any other telepath. Boobytraps, if you will."

"What happens if someone sets off d'ese boobytraps?"

"A telepath can set a trap to have a number of different results. Coma, catatonia, twitches, complete amnesia, a set of tasks that must be completed, kind of like hypnotic suggestions - think _The Manchurian Candidate_."

"Original or remake?"

"Either. Both have good examples."

"What 'bout de traps in Wanda's head? What are d'ey?"

"I used mostly a _non compos mentis_ strategy in Ms. Maximoff's mind."

"Huh? _Non compos mentis_?"

"It's Latin. Meaning 'not in possession of one's senses.'" Gambit looked blankly at him. "She will most likely go insane if a telepath sets off one of my traps."

Gambit leaned back and sat in silence for a minutes, wrapping his mind around the situation and wording his next question. "What kind o' crazy?"

"Delusional, nonsensical, deranged, disoriented, haywire, bonkers, completely cuckoo."

"D'at's enough, Monsieur Roget (3). Dis insanity, it's only temporary, right?"

Mastermind rolled his eyes. "What kind of tool would I be to Magneto if it was only temporary?"

"Dat's cold."

"That's business."

"Magneto asked you to do dat?"

"No, Magneto told me to get the job done and make it so it isn't undone. He knows his enemies well."

"So getting anot'er telepath to fix her is out o' de question. What 'bout you?" Gambit nodded his helmet head to Jason.

The older mutant laughed. "You've got to be kidding. That job was the sole reason Magneto hired me! I've seen how he treats people who go against him."

"You're a coward."

"Hypocrite."

"Hey, I'm not de one under Magneto's boot."

"No, you're the one who hides from Nathaniel Essex behind Magneto's cape."

Remy's eyes narrowed. "How much do you know?"

"Enough."

Gambit decided to let it go. That was not the matter of discussion tonight. "You don' have to fix everythin' in Wanda's head. Just unlock d'ose memories o' St. John."

"Magneto recruited me specifically for that job. I'm not going to screw it up for some Aussie prankster."

Gambit took a new angle to the predicament. "Where's your sense o' love and romance?"

"Same place I left my tolerance for you."

"Haven' you ever been in love?"

Jason snorted. "The only woman I ever loved was in love with Luke Skywalker."

"She had a thing for Mark Hamill?"

"No, Luke Skywalker."

Gambit barely managed to contain his laughter. "Why not make her believe you were Skywalker? Your love child could be a shape-shifter with a cute little monkey tail." (4)

"Please, just blow me up now, so I don't have to listen to any more of your prattle."

"Non, I still need more information. D'ere's gotta be a way to fix d'is." Remy thought for a minute. "What if she figures it out on her own? Someone tells her what really happened."

"She won't accept it. She'll just think they are lying. Her memories tell her otherwise. Why should she take someone else's word?"

"Now, come on. You might have told Magneto you finished de job, but we all know you didn'. De X-Men interrupted you. D'ere has got to be some way in."

"Oh darn. You found me out. And since we are such good buddies, I'll share everything with you. Can we play Mystery Date afterwards?"

Gambit smiled. "You'd like dat, wouldn' you?"

"Enough!" Jason stood up. "I've played your game long enough. Leave."

Gambit slowly edged himself off Jason's bed, smiling with a threatening glow in his eyes. With a few swift movements, Mastermind found himself pinned to his chair by Remy's bo staff. The Cajun stood behind the chair, pulling the staff hard against Jason's chest until it was a struggle to breathe.

"How 'bout dis game?" Remy pulled the staff harder, and Jason coughed. "Now, what were you doin' when you were so rudely interrupted."

"Reading _David Copperfield_."

Remy tightened his grip. "Non, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"Fine, but there are conditions." The staff against Jason's chest loosened to let him breathe a little freer. "One: You stop trying to choke me with your stick. Two: Magneto never finds out. Three: You will leave this room and never bother me again about this."

"Sounds good. I agree." Remy stepped out from behind the chair and sat back down on the bed. He retracted his bo staff and put it in his pocket.

Jason rubbed his bruised chest. "When I was interrupted, I was removing all of the sensory triggers to those memories I locked away."

"Sensory triggers?"

"You know how you smell something or see something, and it makes you recall some long distant memory you thought you'd forgotten? Like you smell fresh-baked cookies and remember eating cookie dough with your mother when you were a kid. Or you see a blue shoe and remember some blue dress the girl of your dreams was wearing."

"I get it."

"Well, I didn't finish removing all of them."

"So what does dat mean to me?"

"Do you have to have everything spelt out for you?" Jason sighed. "There are still triggers that can be set off to get her to try and recall those memories of Pyro I locked away."

"So we just have to set off some o' d'ese triggers, and she'll start to remember?"

"No. Every time she tries to recall one of those memories, it'll be like running headfirst into a brick wall."

Remy squinted at Jason while processing the information. "I don' understand how dis will help us, den."

"It will add doubt. She may be able to reject the memories I instilled in her mind, leaving it open to other possibilities. She might believe that her memories were manipulated."

"But she'd never get her memories back."

"No. She'll never be able to access her blocked memories without telepathic assistance."

"Or you."

"Yes. So there you go. You can try and make her doubt her memories. Of course there are other things that could happen..."

Remy groaned. "Like what?"

"When she tries to access her locked memories via sensory triggers, she'll experience headaches, dizziness, and could fall into a coma."

"Great."

"You asked."

"What's de likelihood of her fallin' into a coma?"

Jason shrugged. Remy jumped up and kicked Jason in the chest, sending the recliner backwards.

"What's de likelihood of her fallin' into a coma?"

"I don't know," Jason growled, rubbing his head. He rolled out of the chair and struggled to right it. "If I had to venture a guess, I'd say good."

Remy tried to ruffle his hair to get the static electricity to jumpstart his brain, but he hit the helmet instead. He let his hand fall as if it was just righting the helmet. "Is there anythin' dat me or John could do to fix dis?"

"I doubt it. Is it refreshing to know you're helpless?" Jason walked over to his bedroom door and opened it. "You visit was very unpleasant. Never come back again."

Remy stood up and slowly walked to the door. His mind was frantically searching for any more questions or loopholes. He reached the doorway and still had nothing. "Let me know if you suddenly grow a heart, Grinch." (5)

"I'll put you on my speed dial, Cindy Lou." Jason slammed the door.

"Dat went well," Remy muttered. After he got a safe distance away, he removed Magneto's helmet and ruffled his sweaty head. "What am I gonna tell John?"

Remy stopped in the kitchen to finish his drink before heading to the heartbroken pyromaniac's room. It had gotten warm, so he dumped most of it. He was going to make a cup of coffee, but upon opening the cupboard, he discovered they were out. The Cajun grabbed the dry erase marker and headed to the refrigerator to add coffee to the grocery list on the board. Coffee was already written on the list only a dozen times. It covered up the other items on it that Remy made out as eggs, beer or bread, milk, mac & cheese, and various cereals. Coffee, as well as beer, was also written all over the freezer door for emphasis.

The Cajun recapped the marker and threw it on the counter. He looked around the room, trying to find something else to delay the inevitable. He failed and headed toward Piotr's, John's, and his rooms. He passed the bathroom on the way and made a pitstop before continuing.

Finally he reached St. John's door. It still looked like the day they moved in. John hadn't hung any pictures or burnt anything into the door. Remy guessed his room would be likewise. Further proof that the Aussie hadn't been himself.

He looked to Piotr's door down and across the hall, where the drawing of the two-foot firefighter still hung. His smile faded as his eyes were drawn back to the bland door in front of him. Remy could hear incessant typing coming from inside. John's typewriter had been the one thing he had insisted he take with him from Australia. Remy recalled the conversation:

"We came all dis way for dat!"

John smiled with pride and tried to hug the bulky, heavy machine to his chest. "It was me Grandpapa's."

"He was a writer?"

The new recruit shook his head. "No, he used to throw it at Jehovah's Witnesses (6). You can't use the caps lock or the right shift key, but other than that it be apples. Except for the 'i' and the 'k' keys. Those broke off when he threw it at the paperboy who was stalking him for two dollars (7)."

"Someday I'll learn not to ask you any questions."

"Not bloody likely."

Remy brought himself back to reality and knocked.

"Gone crazy, be back later!" John called from inside. His fingers never left the typewriter.

Remy opened the door anyway. "Dat's like waitin' for Hell to freeze over."

The room was lit by fifty or so candles. John was sitting at a desk with a pencil behind his ear, a pencil in his mouth, and two pencils in his hair like two horns. He took the pencil out of his mouth but never looked up to reply. "Will you bring me back a snow cone?" The firebug returned the pencil to its place.

Remy walked in and leaned up against a wall. "Story dat good?"

"The best," he mumbled through the pencil.

"Can you take a break? I got somethin' to tell you."

John took out the pencil and set it on his desk. "The answer is yes. Of course I'll marry you, Remy. I can't believe you had to ask. Just slip the ring on the desk, and I'll put it on later." John completed a page. When he whipped it out, it made that wonderful zip sound.

"Serious, John."

The firebug examined the completed page, then set it facedown on top of a pile. "I don't like your serious face. It gives me nightmares." John pulled out a clean sheet of paper and fed it to the ancient machine. "You talk; I'll type. I can't lose my steam. It's like mojo. Once you lose it, it's a pain to find again." He started typing again.

"You can pay attention to two things at once?"

"I'm a man of many talents, Remy."

"I don' t'ink dat's one o' d'em." John didn't reply; he kept writing. Remy decide to go for it. He told him everything. His conversation with the cowardly Grinch from start to finish. John stared intently at his inked words the entire time, continually typing. When Remy finished, John did not acknowledge him. "John, did you hear me?"

He was currently examining a finished page. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I heard you. Heard everything."

"What are you gonna do, d'en?"

John loaded up another clean sheet in the typewriter. "I'm going to finish this chapter."

"You didn' hear a word I said!"

"Yes, I did. And if you don't mind, I work much faster without you in here. You're disrupting my feng shui." John pointed to the small plant in the window.

Remy made no movement to leave, so John enlarged one of the small flames lighting the room. It formed a cowboy on a horse. A fire whip grazed the Cajun's shoulder.

"Time ta be movin' on, sunny," the cowboy mouthed, with John supplying the voice with the bad Southern accent.

Remy took the hint and left. He stomped all the way to his adjacent room, hearing the clicking of typewriter keys the entire way. After he slammed the door, he heard the clicking for a minute more. Then silence. Then a groan, a crash, and the splintering of wood.

Both Piotr and Remy ran out of their rooms to see John's black typewriter upon a pile of what used to be John's bedroom door. The boys looked through the door to find John standing there sheepishly with his hands in his pockets.

He shrugged. "They don't make doors like they used to." He opened the door, pushing away the debris, and grabbed his machine. John put it back on his desk. Then the candles went out and he disappeared in the darkness of his room.

Piotr looked to Remy for an explanation, and he gave it. At the end, Piotr shook his head in sadness. "What do we do?"

"Don' know. Take it as it comes, I guess." The boys retreated into their respective bedrooms and retired for the night.

* * *

(1) Quote from _The Princess Bride_.  
(2) Referring to Alex Trebeck, the Canadian host of _Jeopardy!_  
(3) In reference to the famous thesaurus: _Roget's Thesaurus_. He's kinda like Webster to the world of thesauri.  
(4) In _The X-Files_ episode "Small Potatoes," a shape-shifter with a monkey tail has five babies with women who's husbands were infertile. The town noticed something amiss when there were five babies born with prehensile tails. One of the mothers, the one the shape-shifter really liked, claimed to have been impregnated by Luke Skywalker. I thought this scenario was too good to pass up to reference here.  
(5) The Grinch as in _The Grinch who Stole Christmas_, who had a "heart two sizes too small." Cindy Lou Who was the little Who in Whosville who made the Grinch's heart grow three sizes. The original Dr. Seuss version. Not that Jim Carry crap. Although I'm not really a fan of either.  
(6) I don't know if there are Jehovah's Witnesses in Australia or not.  
(7) Reference to _Better off Dead_, an 80's John Cusack movie. It's one bizarre film. My favorite part is when the translucent blue raisin dish John Cusack's mom made crawls off John Cusack's plate. Then there's the paperboy who pops up EVERYWHERE demanding his money. 


	6. My Waffles, My Secret

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Six: My Waffles, My Secret  
**

"Duck!" Ray shouted at Rogue. She followed his advice, and he shocked the hovering robotic paint ball machine behind her. Rogue grabbed a piece of the decommissioned machine and threw the hunk of metal at another robotic opponent.

Wolverine and Storm were experimenting with teams of mixed New Mutants and veteran X-Men. Rogue, Kitty, Scott, Ray, and Sam had the morning sessions with Logan while Jean, Kurt, Bobby, Roberto, Amara, and Jamie had sessions after school with Ororo. The object of this game was capture the flag, Danger Room style. Scott assigned himself and Ray as look-outs with their main focus keeping the various mechanical opponents away, while Kitty, Rogue, and Sam were to help each other advance to the flag, sitting a high ledge above a pool of mud. Sam hadn't lasted long. He had yet to learn that the Danger Room required teamwork and purposely worked so you can't complete a team scenario alone. The mud from the pit had taken on a life of its own, reaching and plucking him mere inches from the flag. There he sat or stood (no one could tell) in the mud pit, with only his head and left arm exposed.

Ray ran slightly behind Rogue, trying to clear a path through the virtual jungle. Why there were all these robots in the jungle, Rogue couldn't guess.

Rogue brushed a branch out of her face and slowed down. "Berserker, are we still headin' in the right direction?" There was no answer. "Ray?" Rogue stopped and turned around. Ray was strung up by some vines with a life of their own, his jaw held shut by one of them. He tried to zap the vines, but they kept jerking his hands at the last minute so he couldn't aim.

"Great." Rogue ran back to her teammate and ripped vines off him. She pulled the one from around his head.

He yelled at her, "Stop it! They'll get you too! Absorb me and run!"

"What?"

"Take my powers and finish the game! I still have assignments to finish before homeroom!"

Rogue took off one of her gloves and hesitated. She looked down and saw the vines gather around her own feet. She reached up and lightly touched his face. She felt the flow of his energy enter her being and soon could sense the electricity building in her hands. The memories came, and she shoved them aside quickly so she could focus on the present.

The next few minutes were a blur of green and electricity. Rogue managed to find Kitty, Scott, and the flag. So did all the rest of their mechanical opponents.

Scott came up with a plan between shooting and dodging. "Rogue! Use your hands as launch pad, and throw Shadowcat up toward the flag, then shock a hole in the mud for her to pass through! I doubt Logan made the mud passable for her. I'll cover you!" They executed the plan perfectly. Just after making the hole in the animated mud, Rogue was painted in the back and fell to the ground. But just as she hit the jungle floor, it reverted back to its cold steel form.

"Simulation complete," the monotone computer announced.

The door opened, and Logan walked in. "Hit the showers and get to school! We'll review the tapes and discuss the session during tomorrow's practice time."

The students ran to the locker rooms to savor every last minute they had to prepare for school. In the girl's showers, Kitty stood with her hands on her hips in front of Rogue's locker. Her face was determined. "You're not getting out of it this time."

Rogue raised a confused eyebrow. "Get outta what?"

Kitty poked Rogue in the chest. "You've got to tell me what happened with Remy yesterday."

Rogue brushed the girl aside and grabbed her shower stuff from her locker. "Ya were asleep watchin' a movie with Kurt when Ah got home. Although how ya can watch a movie from behind the couch, Ah don' know."

Kitty spoke as Rogue walked to the showers. "We weren't watching a movie. We were mocking Jean and Scott who were watching a movie. But they were too boring even to mock last night." Kitty turned, grabbed her stuff, and ran to catch up with Rogue.

Rogue walked in a shower stall and closed the curtain around her. Kitty settled herself in the next shower. "An' why was mah bed covered in phones?" Rogue called over the falling water.

Kitty replied, sounding agitated, "Stupid newbies were trying to listen in on a conversation with me and Peter."

"But why mah bed?"

"You weren't using it."

"How come we have ta share a room anyway? Jean gets her own room."

Kitty shrugged. "If you want to share a room with Jean, I can deal with the heartbreak of living in my very own private room."

"Funny, Kit. Why do ya want your own room anyway? Gonna sneak handsome Russians in after hours?"

"Rogue!"

"It's a legitimate question."

"No, it is not! Just because I finally asked Peter out doesn't mean I'm going to start sneaking him into my room like you do with Remy."

"So ya finally asked the big boy out. Congratulations." Then Rogue added, "Fo' the record, Ah NEVER snuck Remy into our room. He invites himself. Like a cockroach. . . or a mouse. Or better yet, like the swamp rat he is."

"You like it."

"Do not."

"So are you, like, finally going to tell me what went down with you two yesterday?"

Rogue turned off the water and grabbed her towel hanging outside of her stall. "Nothing."

"You are such a horrible liar! I know something happened, so just spill it."

Rogue wrapped the towel around her body and walked back to the locker area of the shower room. She had practically had to yell for Kitty, still in the shower, to hear her. "Nothing happened between us. We had a bit to eat, we walked around a bit, that's it."

Kitty stuck her head out of the curtain. "Liar. And how do you shower so fast?"

"Ah don't spend all mah time talkin'." The Goth looked up at the clock. "And you'd better get cleanin', or your gonna be late."

Kitty eeped, and her head disappeared back into the stall. "This isn't done, Rogue. I know you won't admit it, but you're going to feel so much better after you tell me what really happened, and we can come up with a course of action."

A dressed Rogue walked over to the sinks to apply her make-up. "I already have a course of action."

"Ha!" Kitty exclaimed. "You admit it! Something did happen!"

"I'm handling it."

"Not very well. You're probably just going to try ignoring him again. Or yell at him, then ignore him. And that won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because you like him!"

"Ah like him like Ah like a pebble in mah shoe."

"I think you spend more time in the denial stage than any other human being. I'll have to check the _Guinness Book of World Records_ to be sure, but I bet you at least come close." Kitty turned off the water and started drying herself.

Rogue finished applying her purple lipstick and started assembling her items. "The person that came up with that five stages crap needs to be drug out into the street and shot."

Kitty came around the bend in her towel. "You only say that because he's right."

Rogue turned to leave the shower room and finish getting ready for school. Kitty was fast and blocked the door. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To school, unfortunately."

Kitty maintaned her ground and shook her head. "Nope, not until you get this off your chest."

"Ya're the only one on mah chest." Rogue paused and reflected. "That sounded much worse out loud."

"Tell me," Kitty chirped.

Rogue replied in the same perky manner, "No."

"Tell me."

"Ya're gonna make us late."

"Then you'd better talk fast."

Rogue sighed, admitting defeat. "Fine, but after school. We're gonna be late."

Kitty scrutinized her. "Promise?"

"Ya want it written in blood?"

"Eww, no. But a promise would be good."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "I promise ta tell ya what happened yesterday tonight."

Kitty stood up straight and smiled, stepping aside. "Great! You know this is for your own good, right?"

Rogue growled and headed out to meet the others for rides to school. Kitty ran back to her locker to finish getting ready.

* * *

Remy rolled over and squinted at his digital clock: 10:47. He groaned and rolled back over, pulling his covers over his head. After a few more minutes of wishing he was still asleep, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He wandered half-conscious out into the hallway toward the kitchen. He glanced in the common room as he passed, but didn't see the Aussie inside. 

Remy continued to the kitchen. He readjusted his boxers and ran a hand through his bed head. Remy opened the cereal cupboard before remembering that there was no cereal aside from Sabertooth's off-limits Lucky Charms. He moved over to the freezer covered in dry-erase marker and pulled out a box labeled Schwann's Spinch and Artichoke Mini-Bread Bowls. He reached in and pulled out his stash of frozen waffles.

A few minutes later, he was sitting at the kitchen table eating jam-covered waffles, since there was no syrup either. Piotr entered the room covered in sweat.

"What happened to you? Had to wrestle Sabertooth for breakfast?"

"Where did you get waffles?" Piotr practically drooled.

"My waffles, my secret." Remy smiled and took another bite. "We should go grocery shoppin' later. Gotta get de credit card from Mags, d'ough. Can' think o' any reason he wouldn' trust us wit' it. But he doesn'. D'ey came back last night, right?"

"Yes. Both Magneto and Sabertooth are here this morning. We can go to the store after yours and John's training sessions."

"Don' remind me." Remy had no idea what face John would be wearing and wasn't looking forward to finding out. "Where is de Oz-man? It's almost eleven. Usually he's watchin' his 'toons."

Piotr glanced at his watch. "He is not here? I lent him my motorcycle early this morning. He said he needed to get supplies to weld the car back together."

"Great. I should probably go lookin' for him. A cigarette run shouldn' have taken dis long. Even if it is John we're talkin' 'bout." Remy shoveled the last of his breakfast in his mouth. "Where do you think he'd go?" They looked at each other, both knowing instantly.

"How are you going to get there? Sabertooth's motorcycle is the only other working vehicle."

Remy smirked. "I'll just have to commandeer somethin', den." He pushed back his chair and stood up. The door to the kitchen flew open. Magneto stood valiantly in the doorway.

"Gambit, I have an upcoming mission to discuss with you before your training session today. Met me in my office in ten minutes. You will start your training immediately afterwards." With his orders issued, he turned to leave.

Remy took a step forward quickly. He had to go out in search of John before he did something stupid. But he couldn't let Magneto know the Aussie was gone or where he went. "Pardon, Monsieur Magneto, but I have to make a quick trip to de store. May I meet wit' you after training?"

The Master of Magnetism half-closed his eyes in irritation. "No, you will meet with me in ten minutes. You can go grocery shopping afterwards." Magneto reached in his pocket. He held a credit card out for Remy to take before coming to his senses and handing the card to Piotr.

"But . . ."

Now Magneto glared. "No." He turned and left before he heard anymore objections.

Remy and Piotr looked at each other. "I do not know how to commandeer a vehicle, Remy."

Remy looked away and sighed. "I know. Guess we'll just have to wait and pray John-boy doesn' do somethin' too stupid."

* * *

Across town, a foreign man was sitting on the back of a bus bench, staring at a large decrepit house at the end of a long driveway. He took the last drag of his cigarette. After exhaling, he snuffed it out and tossed it on the ground. He tapped his open pack on his hand to compact the tobacco before pulling out a new one to light. Just as the edge of the paper caught, an abrupt gust of wind blew it out. 

"Get lost, Pyro," the son of Magneto threatened.

John acknowledged Pietro with a glance, pulled his lighter out of his pocket, and lit his cigarette.

Pietro zoomed around and spoke into John's ear, "Did you hear me?"

Pyro exhaled and smiled. "Course I heard you, Norma. Still waiting for your close-up, Ms. Desmond? I'm sure Mr. DeMille will be here any day now." (1)

The speed demon moved in front of St. John. "Stop calling me Norma."

"Not until you figure out what it means."

Pietro threw his arms in the air. "I don't care what it means. I didn't spend my childhood watching ancient Audrey Hepburn movies with and even more ancient man."

John slid over on the bench so Pietro was no longer blocking his view of the house. "It wasn't an Audrey Hepburn movie. And if you insult my grandpapa again, they're gonna have to start callin' you Quick-toast."

Pietro scoffed at the Aussie's threat. "Doubt it. And you're still pathetic."

John took a long drag and kept watching the house. "How can you stand by while your father screws up your sister?"

"He didn't screw her up. He fixed her. She's happier now. All smiles and sunshine."

"Bull. There was nothing wrong with her. And she's not happier."

"You only say that because she's not with you anymore." At "you" Quicksilver poked Pyro in the chest. He crossed his arms and smiled triumphantly. "Barely knows you exist. I doubt she could pick you out of a line-up."

"Norma, stop kidding yourself. Look at her eyes. Most of the time she's dead inside." St. John shuffled in a sack he had and pulled out a pair of binoculars that looked like they came out of a cereal box. "See for yourself." He held them out for Pietro, but he kept his arms crossed and glared. St. John shrugged and put the 2x binoculars that couldn't help an old person read a crossword puzzle back in his grocery bag. He played around with the embers of his cigerette before turning and looking into Quicksilver's eyes. "Do you even know what'll happen if Wanda figures it out?"

Pietro didn't respond. He continued standing over the Aussie, trying to appear menacing, but his sapphire blues sparked with curiosity.

St. John let his cigarette hang from his mouth as he counted on his fingers. "She'll either go crazy or become a vegetable."

Pietro tried not to show his surprise, but his widened eyes gave him away. "Who told you that?"

St. John turned to stare at the house some more. "I heard it on the grapevine." A minute passed of humming, smoking, and hovering. "How long are you going to stand there and watch me? I know you had a crush on - "

"How long are you going to sit there and stalk my sister?" Pietro interrupted.

"Until I finish my cigarette." So they remained in silence, until John inhaled the last bit of burning leaves and tossed his butt on the ground.

Pietro looked down and saw a small pile of at least six butts. When Pietro turned his head up, he found St. John with another cig in his mouth. "I thought you were leaving!"

"I'm not done with my durry."

"Yes, you are! It's right there!" Pietro pointed to the pile on the ground.

St. John followed the speedy mutant's finger with little interest. "No, those aren't mine. They were there when I got here."

Pietro growled and ran in front of John to disrupt his view of the Brotherhood House again. "Wow, look at the time. It's time for you to get a life. I hear they're going for real cheap on E-Bay nowadays. Better go make your bet." When the Aussie didn't make a move, Pietro added, "Leave!"

The firebug leaned back and flipped a wad of money out of his pocket. "I'm considering it. Remy stole this from some dope at the look out point. Gave it to me to get to Mexico (2)."

"You were at look out point with Gambit? Who needs Wanda when you have a sugar daddy like him? Great choice for a rebound. I'm sure the children will be gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as the ones I'd have, but handsome enough."

John smiled and winked at Pietro. "You're just sour 'cause I didn't choose you, Pikachu."

Pietro grew tired of the argument. He wanted to pick the Aussie up and throw him in front of a moving train, but he figured his dad might not like that too much. Besides, he'd have to listen to Pyro's innuendoes the entire 2.5 seconds it takes to get to the train tracks. That was too much. The speedster decided that he would give the pyromaniac one more chance to be smart before he kicked him out.

"I'm going inside for three minutes. When I come back, you will be gone." Pietro made sure he had the last word by racing back to the Brotherhood house.

The customary Quicksilver gust of air and door slam caused Wanda to get up and walk downstairs to her brother in the entry way.

She glanced out the window and saw the Aussie sitting on the bus bench, smoking like a chimney. "Was that Pyro you were talking to?" she asked her twin.

"What's it to you?" he snapped.

Wanda was taken aback by his harshness. "Nothing. I just wondered if Father had sent a message. I didn't mean to walk in on you two in the closet."

Pietro growled and ignored Wanda's comment. "Dad just sent him to get an update on what's going on here," he lied.

The raven-haired Witch glanced out the window again. "Then why is he still out there smoking?"

"Huh?" Pietro did likewise. He gritted his teeth. The front door flew open. Wanda again walked to the window to watch, but she couldn't hear their words.

The silver-haired mutant smacked Pyro on the back of the head, causing his cigarette to fall from his mouth. "I told you three minutes! What are you still doing here?"

John turned and stood up, angry that he wasted his precious nicotine. "Wishful thinking, but the bus doesn't come for another twenty." John cocked his head and examined Pietro's stance. "I think you need a bucket on your head before you start exerting real authority. Maybe a cape." He cocked his head the other way. "No, just the bucket, I think."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Twenty minutes then! Twenty minutes and you will be off to meet your precious Remy and run off to Mexico. You don't need to get me anything. The lack of your presence will be a gift in itself."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, mate."

Pietro punched him and ran back to the house. He slammed the door, then zipped in front of Wanda and closed the shabby mismatched curtains. "The bus doesn't come for another twenty minutes." Pietro opened the curtains a smige to peek through. John was, of course, still sitting on the bench. He waved. Pietro scrunched up his face and closed the curtains. "He's crazy. Stay away from him."

"You're the one who can't stay away from him," she replied. She looked at the covered window and thought out loud. "Father should get him some help. He was acting really strange when he came by the other day. Like he was lost or dropped acid."

"He's like that all the time. I should know. I lived with him for a while."

"Rogue said he's upset because his ex-girlfriend got amnesia and can't remember him."

"Dirty, filthy, rotten turncoat," Pietro mumbled over his shoulder. He zipped over to put his arm around Wanda and lead her away from the window. "Don't know anything about that. He probably just dreamt that a girl actually liked a loony like him and was upset when he woke up." Pietro had managed to maneuver her to the living room

Wanda scrutinized him and his story. "I don't think so. I saw him downtown yesterday and there was just so much hurt in his eyes - "

He started speaking violently with his hands. "Wait a minute! That unbalanced maniac was stalking you yesterday!"

"He wasn't stalking me. We just ran into each other."

"I'll kill him." Pietro about faced to give the firebug another beating when a tight grip on his arm stopped him in his tracks.

"Why bother? He's harmless. Plus, he works for Father. If there really was any danger, don't you think he would have handled it."

"Why are you defending him? Why are you so concerned about him in the first place?"

Wanda's eyes widened as she searched for an answer. She was truly bewildered. "I don't know."

Pietro continued to zoom around the room and rant. Wanda ignored him and sat down on the sofa.

On the television the Kool-aid Man burst through a brick wall and the screen was covered in colors and flavors. Wanda tuned out the jumping and screaming kids and saw only the colors swirling. Not in their usual smooth way, but with texture. Like fur. Kool-aid fur? The Witch's head began to pound. She ignored it and concentrated. _There was something cold in my hand. _She looked back up at the TV. It was a color change flavor. The white crystals turned blue. _Like Smurfs_, she thought randomly. She began to massage her temple.

Pietro noticed something was going on with his sister and stopped his tirade. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." His disruption subsided the pain. She rolled her hand in a continuing manner. "You were ranting?"

"Nothing. Nothing," Pietro was also in denial. _What if the screwball was right? What if talking about this stuff can put her in a coma? What does it look like when someone goes into a coma? Gotta find that out._ "Let's just talk about something else."

"Fine," Wanda crossed her arms and studied the television again. The program was back on.

They were both quiet until a phone rang. Pietro whipped his cell out of his pocket, but was disappointed to find out it wasn't him. He looked to Wanda who snorted and pointed at the television. The phone call reminded Wanda of something.

"By the way, you really need to stop giving the house number to the girls you don't want to date. Memorize some pizza joint or a bank or something."

"Why?"

"Because they keep drunk dialing the house."

"What?"

Wanda sighed. "The latest one was some girl speaking in a really bad French accent. She said she was 'Giselle, a French bitch,' made some weird noise, giggled and hung up. A few minutes later, same number, different girl. This time the accent was better. Said the same thing, made a whipping noise and hung up. The third time they called, all I could hear was laughter and a man saying he wasn't going to do it." She paused. "Where do you meet these girls?" (3)

"What was the number?" a suspicious Pietro asked.

"Am I your secretary now? I have to memorize all the numbers of all the girls who call the house in case you decide one is actually worth your while?"

"Would you just look at the caller-id?"

"You're the curious one."

"You're closer to the phone."

Wanda leaned over and picked up the cordless phone Magneto has supplied the Brotherhood with. She chucked it right at her brother's face.

He easily dodged it. "Thanks, Ms. Maturity. You didn't just almost break my face; you almost broke hearts across the state." He picked it up and flipped through the numbers. There weren't many, and he quickly found the three phone calls. He recognized it as the new number of the Acolyte base. "I'll be right back," he told his sister and disappeared out the front door.

Wanda sighed and got up from her seat, switching off the TV. She knew he had gone outside to harass Pyro some more. She threw on her scarlet jacket and casually followed him.

Quicksilver was running around the bench while Pyro sat with thin lines of fire circling himself. Then Pyro made his move, and Quicksilver ran straight through a wall of fire. His speed protected most of him, like when you quickly move your finger through a candle flame, but his silk shirt was easily ignited. Pietro screamed about burning his beautiful wardrobe while John laughed.

Then John caught the movement of red from the corner of his eye. He stopped laughing. Their eyes locked. Wanda continued walking forward, a swelling of intrigue filling her emotional void. She felt alive again. John broke contact, snubbed out his cigarette and put the unburned half behind his ear. He may have come to the Brotherhood to catch a glimpse of her, but Mastermind's predictions frightened him. He couldn't risk being near her. He got up, ignoring Pietro's curses as he unsuccessfully stop, dropped, and rolled. The Aussie sprinted over to some nearby bushes and pulled out a motorcycle. Wanda had made it to the bench just as he was strapping on his helmet.

Pietro sat up. "You said you were waiting for the bus!"

"Never said I was takin' it. Sorry, Norma, it can never be. 'I'm all wrong for you. You want a Valentino, somebody with polo ponies, a big shot!' I'm not sure I'll even make it to Joe Gillis. Farewell!" (4) John started up Piotr's motorcycle and burned rubber.

Wanda was insulted. _He didn't even acknowledge me!_ She threw an angry hex bolt at him. The bike froze. John didn't. He went flying over the handlebars into the middle of the street. He groaned and rolled over.

"What'd you do that for?" her brother screamed in her ear. "He was finally leaving! Leave it to you to screw up something good."

Wanda glared at him and hexed him where he stood. She smiled. She hadn't hexed him in ages. It felt good. Real good. Why didn't she do this more often? Oh, yeah, usually it didn't make her feel this way: satisfied.

"Wanda!" he screamed. She hexed him again and his jaw was magically wired shut. Her grin broadened.

The witch looked back to the fallen Aussie; the smile left her face. She hadn't meant to hurt him. She jogged a few steps toward him before remembering who she was: Scarlet Witch, cold and merciless. Her steps slacked; John was sitting up by the time she reached him.

His bent knees served as shelves for his elbows as he regained his senses. A light bulb went on above his head and his right hand went searching under his helmet. The hand retrieved the half-smoked cigarette. St. John let out a sigh of relief. He lit it under the shadow of Wanda Maximoff.

She grew frustrated when he didn't look up. "Am I invisible to you?" she barked.

He raised his head. "I was waiting for an apology. This was my favorite jacket." With his cigarette securely between his lips, he lifted his arms and showed the torn denim elbows.

Her face showed no pity. She crossed her arms. "I'm waiting for one, too."

"For what?"

"Ignoring me. Again."

John took his cigarette between his fingers and used it as a pointer. "Look, shelia, the world doesn't revolve around you. According to your brother, it revolves around him, so you two can duke it out. Leave me outta it." He returned the cancer stick to his mouth and started to get up. A car wizzed by, honked, and jumped the curb trying to avoid hitting the mutants and the motorcycle in the middle of the street. They paid little notice to it or any thing else.

Currently full of spite, the Witch bent down, yanked the cigarette from his lips and threw it on the ground. With speed that would impress her brother, her boot ground it into the pavement.

Denied his calming nicotine, John grew more irritable. He stood up and looked her in the eye. "What do you want from me? A 'Pleasure to see you, decapitated anyone recently'? Or how 'bout 'Nice haircut, beautiful. It matches your front door perfectly'? Why are all the bloody doors in your neighborhood painted black anyway?"

While formulating her reply, the wind changed; it blew at John's back now. He smelt mostly of cheap cigarettes, but there was something else there. Something faint. Something calming. "I want . . . I want . . ." Tthe smell was distracting. It was familiar. She knew that smell had brought her happiness once. She massaged her forehead. "I want to know. . . "

"Do I look like Ben Stein to you? You want to know something, go to the library!" He turned and righted Piotr's bike.

The wind shifted again and Wanda was able to forget the smell for a moment. With a newfound clarity she finished her sentence. "I want to know why you keep running away from me. You aren't scared of me, that's obvious. So what's your deal?"

"None of your business." One leg swung over the machine.

"Oh really? Then you look at everyone like you've just had your heart ripped out and danced on."

John averted his eyes. "You remind me of someone," he mumbled.

Wanda barely heard him over the honking cars. She stepped closer to the firebug and matched his volume. "Who?"

St. John looked into her eyes. They burned with concern and wonder. She took another step; now she was within arms reach of the motorcycle. He gulped, wondering how to answer.

The wind shifted again, and Wanda was reminded of the familiar smell. She let out a small groan and turned her head, massaging it again. John knew there was something wrong, and it had to do with him. "...headaches, dizziness, coma," came Masterminds voice in his head, even though he never heard him utter the words.

Luckily, John didn't have to answer. With the hexes having worn off, Pietro was at his sister's side. "His grandfather, obviously. He was old and crotchety, just like you. Too bad he's dead. You two could have started a club." Wanda glared at his arm around her shoulders, trying to turn her away from the Acolyte.

John took the opportunity to start up the motorcycle. "It's been fun, but I have to go. Good day, Ms. Maximoff, Ms. Desmond!" He nodded to each as said their names, then took off.

The twins watched as the Aussie disappeared around the corner. Wanda felt her compassion and temper flow from her body; she was lukewarm again.

"Finally! He's gone," Pietro exclaimed. "For a while I thought that loser might start squatting here."

Wanda was silent for a minute, lost in her thoughts. She knew Pietro was lying about the grandfather business. She also knew who she must have reminded John of the moment the words came out of her mouth. She reminded him of his amnesiac ex-girlfriend. Who else could it be? But Wanda couldn't imagine being so similar to anyone to as to cause that much pain to see her. What was it that made John think of her? Was it her looks? Her attitude? She would have to ask Rogue for more information later.

The Witch turned her head and raised an eyebrow to Pietro. "Norma Desmond your new drag name?"

"Shut up."

"Norma, your ass is on fire."

* * *

A sleek, black Intrigue ran through the streets of Bayville. The girl in the passenger seat looked down at the list she had made from skimming Lance's memories the day before. She had a pretty complete list since the Brotherhood boy had spent some time training with the X-Men (5). 

Malice had decided that possessing someone at school would be the easiest, since she couldn't guarantee when any of the adults would leave the mansion. She also needed someone high on the totem pole, so that she would have the highest access possible without raising suspsion. That cut out all the New Mutants. She was left with the X-Men.

Jean Grey was immediately crossed off the list. _Telepaths. I hate telepaths. Can't risk her being strong enough to kick me out of her body. I could knock her unconscious first, but who knows when she'd wake up and take over._

Shadowcat got scratched next. _I've never possesed someone with intangablity. I don't know how that would work with my powers._

Nightcrawler was the next to be elimnated. _Mess with him, and I'll have Mystique breathing down my neck. Damn shape-shifter and her mental blocks, makes it so a girl can't invade her body without breaking a sweat. Plus, the shedding would be a pain to clean up after._

Her eyes moved back to the top of the list. _Cyclops could work. But he's dating the telepath. No telepath has kicked me out of someone else's body, but they can detect me if they know what they're looking for. Plus he's a preppy._ She shuddered. _I hate preppies._

Malice toyed with the idea of possessing Rogue. _I could get the information I need and mess with Remy all with one possession. It's almost too delicious to pass up. Her powers depend on skin to skin contact, and since I don't have any skin, I doubt I'll have any trouble. _She put a star by Rogue's name.

And lastly, Spyke. Word had yet to reach Lance and the Brotherhood that Spyke had left the X-Men, so Malice wasn't privy to that information. _Who told the kid it was cool to spell his name like that? That's so fifth grade._ She didn't foresee any problems possessing the mutant and put a number two by his name. She went back up to the top of the list and put a three next to Cyclops.

"Are you ready for your first day of school, pet?" the driver teased. He knocked the ashes from his cigarette out the slitted window and pulled into the visitor's lot in front of Bayville High.

"Get bent." Malice tucked one of Diamonda's loose braids behind her ear as she studied her list once more.

"With that attitude you'll make friends in no time. What do you think, Eggs?" He looked in the rear view mirror at the Korean boy in the backseat.

The kid smiled and leaned his elbows on the front bucket seats. "She'd best be a mime. Maybe show off her legs."

"Ha ha, Scrambler." Malice turned back to business. "We need a signal, so you'll know if I need help."

"I know, 'ow about you run to the zoo as fast as your little legs can carry you. Or float, if things get really bad."

"The zoo? I didn't know you had a family reunion."

"I'm not going for me. See, I promised Scrambled Eggs 'ere, that I'd take 'im to Bayville Zoo."

"But you two are supposed to be my back up. The X-Men aren't a joke like the Brotherhood."

"And if you need us, we'll be backed up...all the way at the zoo."

"Scambler's sixteen years old! He doesn't want to go to the zoo."

"Yes, 'e does. Ask 'im."

Malice turned around in her seat. The grinning face of Scrambler gave her the answer before she even asked. She clicked her tongue and twisted to yell at the driver some more. "How the hell did you get in charge of the team? I've been with Essex longer, and I wouldn't abandon my teammate when he needed me. Unless it was you, of course."

"Let's see. Why would Essex think that I'm a better leader than you? Obviously, 'e's either a bigot or thinks you're too whimsical an' emotionally unstable to 'andle the pressure."

"I don't need you. A lotta help you'd be anyway. You'd throw three punches, then have a coughing fit. I can do this by myself."

"That's the spirit. Delusions of grandure are your friend."

The car suddenly grew too hot and confined to fit both Malice and the driver. She unbuckled her seat belt, stepped out of the car, and bent the light into a flash of white in front of his face.

"Dammit! You spitful - "

Malice slammed the door on his insult. With a wave of fairwell to the boy in the backseat, she scouted out a vantage point between the building and the student parking lot.

She had to wait only ten minutes before the bell rang, and the cattle were released from the school. At first all she could spot were two of the older X-Men. Jean and Scott were talking with an overexcited kid that looked a little like Nightcrawler, if he lost the tail and the fur. They gathered around an ugly looking convertable and a newly painted SUV. Malice bent the soundwaves to her so she could eavesdrop without leaving her perch.

". . . I don't know if this new practice system will work out. Pretty soon the winter sport season will start up, and some people might have practice after school," said the red-headed Jean.

"And what sport can a mutant try out for anymore? You were ousted from the soccer team, Evan from the skate tournament - "

"That's exactly why we should, Scott! We can't just let the oppression wash over us. We have to try and keep trying until normal people understand where we're coming from."

"You're right... I just had a bad day in class today. I tried to talk to Paul again, but he's still pretending I don't exist."

The skinny kid with the dark hair put a reasuring hand on Cyclops's shoulder. "He'll come around. I don't think he hates you because you're a mutant. He's just angry about being kept in the dark for so long. But until then, imagine all the extra quality time you'll get to spend with me! Nothing beats hanging out vith the Fuzzy Elf. Now isn't that something to celebrate!"

Cyclops smiled at his friend. "Thanks, Kurt."

Meanwhile several New Mutants had gathered around Jean's SUV as well. The telepath unlocked the doors and let them in. "You riding with me or Scott, Kurt?"

Kurt pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on. "Today, I'm riding in style." He hopped into the passenger seat of Scott's car.

Scott opened the driver's side door. "You're going to have to ride with Jean tomorrow, though. I have some stuff to take care of after school and won't make it back in time for your practice."

Malice stopped bending the conversation to her ears and started scanning the crowd for her number one and two choices of possession. She saw Kitty Pryde about to burst, practically skipping out of the school. She started walking downtown and waved to the cars of X-Men as they passed. No one else emmerged from the school.

_Shit! I must have missed them_. Malice decided to make one pass through the school, just to make sure. If not, she'd have to scrap it for today and try again tomorrow. A plan was already formulating in her mind.

The hallways echoed, but the school was not as abandoned as it seemed. Occasionally Malice would hear clips of distant conversations and locker doors slamming. She passed the gym where the basketball players were practicing. She ran into some cheerleaders stretching on mats, but, not surprisingly, didn't see Rogue amung them.

Malice was about to give up when she noticed a closed classroom door with the lights on. There was little sound but the scratching of pencils coming from inside. She stood on her toes and peered through the uncovered part of the window. Malice smiled. Inside, among the other detenees, were two mutants she recognized from Lance's memories: Rogue and Cannonball. Since she didn't know when detention was letting out, Malice set up shop in an empty room across the hall. She relaxed in the teacher's chair, put her feet up on the desk, and bent the light from the hallway so she could see what was going on without being noticed.

Twenty minutes later, the door across the hall burst open. Malice waited until the two X-Men picked a direction to travel in before she left to follow them. Like she did with the rest of the team, she listened to their conversation.

". . . ya learned not ta go along with Bobby's 'brilliant' ideas, yet?"

"Yeah. Ah canna believe he just left meh ta take all the blame."

"Don't worry. He'll get it when he gets back to the institute."

Sam pushed open the front door of the school and held it for Rogue. "What were ya in fo', again?"

"Ah didn't say."

He waited a minute for Rogue to fill the gap of conversation with the answer to his question. When that time never came, he asked again. "Are ya gonna tell meh what ya did?"

"No." Rogue cocked her head to look at the gaggly southern. "Maybe when you're older."

"Aww, shoot. Ah know 'bout stuff, Rogue."

"Sure ya do. Tell ya what. When you're old enough not to fall for Bobby's tricks, then Ah'll tell ya."

"Ya sure can be mean sometimes." The pair had made it to a secuded spot behind the football field. "Ya want meh ta blast ya home? Ah haven' dropped anyone yet."

Rogue was about to take him up on his offer when she heard a loud nondescript noise. She turned her head to find the source, but instead her eye caught a familiar figure from the day before. Up on the bleachers sat the blonde that was with Remy the day before. "Ah think Ah'll stick around town for a bit. Ah'll call if ah end up needin' a ride."

"Suite yourself." After Rogue took a few steps back, Sam launched himself into the air. He was gone in a flash.

Rogue looked back up at the bleachers, but the girl was gone. She frantically glanced around to see where she had went. She glimpsed someone with a purple shirt heading around the corner of the concession stand. Rogue jogged to catch up with her. Rounding the corner, she ran into the other girl and stumbled back to the ground.

"Hey, you better be careful." Malice offered her a hand. "You never know what crazies you might run into if you're not careful." Malice flashed her sinister smile.

* * *

(1) Norma Desmond, extremely narcissistic and egomaniacal character in the movie _Sunset Blvd.  
_(2) See Nine to Five: Epilogue Part III.  
(3) _Coupling,_ "The End of the Line". One of the best episodes! Required viewing!  
(4) Quote from _Sunset Blvd_.  
(5) For all those who need a refresher, Lance joined the X-Men second season in the episode "Joyride". 


	7. You Aren't Delusional

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, I made it. Only a couple of days late. Better luck next time. I apologize ahead of time if the Kiotr makes anyone nauseated. I almost ran to the bathroom; it was so sweet, innocent, and cheesy, but I couldn't help myself.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Seven: You Aren't Delusional**

There was something unsettling about that smile. It reminded Rogue of the Cheshire Cat, mocking and full of secrets. Rogue reluctantly took the hand, and, with a surprising strength, the skinny blonde girl pulled her up. But the blonde did not let go of her hand. Just smiled.

Rogue resisted the urge to shudder and instead nodded to their joined hands. "Ya need a third hand fo' somethin' o' can Ah have mine back?"

"I find that two are usually enough," the girl replied and let go. She continued to smile and sized up the other mutant.

Rogue grew more uncomfortable as they stared at each other. She hadn't been prepared to talk to the girl. She had planned to follow her, like Harriet the Spy. Now she was face to face with her and drawing a blank. "Thanks," she mumbled finally. "I'm Rogue."

Malice decided most fun tactic would be to play the amicable ex-girlfriend, and that included being very friendly to the girl on the edge between Remy's friendship and something more. "That's a unique name. An old boyfriend of mine has a friend named Rogue. You couldn't possibly be her, could you?"

Not wanting to be caught spying, Rogue remained vague. "Depends who your friend is."

"Remy. Remy LeBeau." Malice put on a dreamy smile for effect. "Cajun, devilishly handsome, charming... I heard he was in town and thought I'd catch up. He talked about a Rogue. Mentioned what a great friend she is and everything."

At the word "friend", Rogue winced. It wasn't because the blonde said it with jealousy, as if she were prying to see how Rogue viewed the relationship. She didn't even emphasize the word. It was because she stated it as a casual fact: The grass is green; bumble bees sting; Scott's a dick. It showed that in her conversation with Remy, the blonde never saw an inkling that there might be more going on between the two. It told Rogue that Remy might not feel anything more for her than a simple friendship.

Rogue tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, but she became noticeably jaded. "Yeah, Ah know the swamp rat. What's it ta ya?"

Malice pretended to be taken aback by her harshness. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize there was such hostility between you two." She sighed. "But I guess that it isn't the first time Remy has exaggerated things. Sorry to take up your time." Malice turned to leave the football field.

After a few steps, Rogue called out to her, "Are you Belladonna? Remy's ex-fiance?"

Malice didn't have to fake surprise this time. She approached Rogue once more. "Fiancé? Remy had a fiancé? There is something wrong with that picture. Was she inflatable?"

Rogue's eyes narrowed, and she took a step back. "Ah guess ya're not."

Malice noticed Rogue's retreat. She nonchalantly took two steps forward. "Sounds like he told you a lot about himself. You must be quite a confidant."

"Ah know 'bout his life before Magneto, yeah," Rogue retorted, although her face betrayed the doubt she felt inside. Especially since he never mentioned a bold, blonde ex-girlfriend like the one in front of her.

"His lips just loosen up around you. And not in the way they do around most women. Or maybe they do that too." She winked.

Rogue's weariness of the response shown in her voice. "We're just friends."

"I'm sure you know all about me, then."

Rogue's eyes shifted. She didn't respond. She thought the girl was Belladonna for sure. There was no other woman in Remy's past whom he had considered a girlfriend. She knew he had various liaisons here and there, but nothing lasting more than a night or two. He even took pride in remembering the name of each and every one. It didn't impress Rogue. Who was this girl? Maybe she was a part of the past Remy refused to share.

"You don't know about me." She smiled, making Rogue cringe again. Malice knew Remy hadn't told the girl anything about Essex and the Marauders. It saved him persecution from others. Although, when he persecuted himself the way he did, she didn't see a difference. What Remy didn't realize is that by not telling anyone about the Marauders, namely her, it left his little chickadees unaware of the cat hunting them. Only the naturally paranoid ones ever suspected anything. Unfortunately for Malice, Rogue was one of them.

"Who exactly are ya?"

Malice knew the jig was almost up; she had to finish this. The girl closed in the space between her and the X-Man. "I told you, an old friend of Remy's. Passing though town."

The warning bells in Rogue's head got louder. "Listen, blondie, Ah don' like games. Either ya tell meh who ya are," Rogue took off one of her gloves, "o' Ah'm gonna find out the hard way. Your choice. An' Ah promise the hard way will hurt ya a lot more than it'll hurt meh."

Malice's smile still did not fade. "You're gloves are off; how poetic." She held out her hand again. "Alice."

Rogue glanced down at the hand but didn't take it. _No, ya can' be Alice. Ah'm the one in Wonderland_. Her glove stayed off, just in case. "Never heard o' ya. Ya obviously weren' important enough ta Remy ta mention." The scene of Remy and "Alice" in the alley yesterday flashed before her eyes. "It's time fo' meh ta go." Rogue took a few steps backward and turned her back to "Alice." There was her mistake. Rogue knew it almost as soon as she had done it.

Malice took several quick steps forward and placed Diamonda's hand on Rogue's upper arm. "Leaving already? We haven't braided each other's hair yet." Diamonda's body flashed a olive color, and Malice's psyche separated from it. She passed through the air between Diamonda and Rogue.

Upon entering Rogue's body, everything felt normal at first. Then, just past the surface, Malice felt a tug. It was not a kick that she felt, like when a telepath expelled her, but an inward vacuum. Malice tried to pull herself back out, but she couldn't. The more energy she used, the greater the pull into Rogue. Her body was a black hole. She started screaming, but in her psyche form, no one could hear her.

Rogue turned her head angrily when she felt a hand on her. She saw a field of translucent green between her and the blonde. Then she felt it. She was absorbing the girl! But something was wrong, different than normal. Rogue panicked and pushed the girl aside. Rogue was again surprised when a jolt of electricity accompanied her push. "Alice" was sent backward a good twenty feet before crashing into some football equipment. The green aura followed the blonde and disappeared in a blink.

"Are ya okay?" Rogue put her glove back on as she ran toward the girl.

Malice shook her senses back into her head. The added external energy had been enough for her psyche to utilize to break away from the black hole called Rogue. She looked up, her vision blurred. Eventually, she saw the Goth kneeling next to her on the grass.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Malice screamed and scrambled to get up. Her legs were still unsteady, and she collapsed after a few steps.

Rogue's guilt drowned out the warning bells in her head. "Let meh help ya," she pleaded.

"NO!" she screamed again. "I don't care what the hell you are, but you are never coming within ten feet of me ever again!"

The Goth lowered her head; her posture screamed vulnerability and shame. "Ah'm a mutant, like Remy - " Rogue started to explain.

Malice took a few more steps back and pointed at the X-Man. "No, I'm a mutant like Remy. You're - you're something else."

Rogue didn't hide her confusion. Usually mutant powers were the first thing she felt when she absorbed someone, milliseconds before the raw energy and memories. She hadn't felt any, though. "Ya're a mutant?"

Malice was still frightened. "Stay away from me!" She used Diamonda's powers to make a huge orange troll-like monster appear between them.

Rogue dodged one of his massive arms, not realizing it was just a hologram. She continued to dodge while trying to come up with a plan of attack or escape. She saw an opening and ran underneath the bleachers. Breathing heavily, Rogue peered out at the field behind her. It was empty. She cautiously stepped out from her hiding space, but it wasn't a trap. Both the orange troll and "Alice" were gone.

* * *

The sun was being a tease. Kitty would find a nice spot on the steps to the Bayville Art Museum to warm up, only to have the sun go behind a cloud a minute later. She checked her watch again. Piotr was almost a half-hour late. Kitty hugged her knees to her chest. _Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have let things go on like they were. I was comfortable with that. . . why'd I have to go and, like, change everything? _The sun disappeared again; she shivered.

Kitty's head looked up reflexively when she heard an engine approach. It was a motorcycle. She watched the rider because there was nothing better to look at. She picked up her head when he got off his bike and bounded the steps toward her. Kitty held her breath and prepared to phase into the concrete. When he was halfway to her, she noticed something familiar about his walk. She cocked her head to the side and realized that it was Piotr. The Valley Girl stood up and brushed the dirt from her jeans.

The black-helmeted man spoke. "Sorry, I am late."

"That's okay." Kitty rocked back and forth on her heals. "Are you going to take off you helmet? I won't, like, hit you or anything. I promise." Kitty held up her right hand as if she was taking an oath.

"Oh, yes." Piotr fumbled to remove his headwear.

Kitty giggled at his helmet hair. "It's a good thing this isn't a black-tie date."

"Black-tie?"

"Fancy, formal."

"Oh." Piotr paused and took in his surroundings. "Should we be going in?"

Kitty smiled and pulled him by the arm down to the street. "Nope."

"Where are we going?"

Kitty let go of Piotr's arm to illustrate her words. "Everywhere!" Kitty reached into her bag and pulled out a brochure. Inside was a map of downtown Bayville littered with stars. "See this sculptor, Rosie Trains (1), has all these statues displayed around town. So I thought we could walk around and look at them all. Not only will we get to see all this artsy stuff, but I'll give you a tour of Bayville, too!"

"It sounds very fun." Piotr looked up at the dark clouds in the west. "But I fear that we will be rained upon."

"I won't melt, will you?"

"Melt?"

"Like the Wicked Witch of the West in the _Wizard of Oz_. When she gets wet, she melts."

Piotr smiled, finally getting the joke. "No, I will not melt. I may rust like the Tin Man, but I will not melt."

Kitty laughed. "Let's go then!" She grabbed a hold of Piotr's arm once again and lead the way.

* * *

The door to Magneto's office finally opened. Remy burst from it like a bullet from a gun. He didn't see John standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Omph!" They bounced off each other but didn't fall.

"John! You're back. You had me worried dat you had - " Remy remembered the open door to Magneto's office behind him. "- dat de store was out of cigarettes."

"Nope." John's face shone a degree of defeat Remy had not seen before.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Tell you later." John waved Remy aside and entered the office.

Remy stood alone in the hallway staring at the closed door. _What is goin' on_? Remy was about to put his ear to the door to listen in on the conversation when Sabertooth strode by.

"You. Training room. Now. Where's the other one?"

Remy considered kicking the hairy mutant's ass for interfering, but he realized that would interrupt the conversation within. There wouldn't be anything to eavesdrop in on.

The Cajun straightened up and strutted past Sabertooth. "Meetin' wit' de boss. Just you an' me. Don' look so sad. You'll have plenty of time to spend wit' your Aussie heartthrob on de mission next week." Sabertooth growled.

* * *

Magneto looked up from the papers on his desk when he heard the door close. "Pyro, I don't recall summoning you."

"Good, then you aren't delusional."

"If I didn't call you, then why are you here?"

"Very good question. I've often contemplated that myself. Most days I settle on the alien theory. Once in awhile I get involved with the chicken and the egg, but that usually ends up in a big mess of yolk and feathers."

"Your silence the last week had been refreshing. Pity you had to ruin it." Magneto looked back down at his paperwork. "If you have something to say, use the suggestion box in the common room like everyone else. I'm expecting a call."

Pyro stood his ground. "This isn't about installing a Slurpee machine."

Magneto sighed and put his work aside. "I am a very busy man. But I'm in a good mood today, so I won't send you flying from the room . . . yet. You have five minutes."

"I want out."

"Out? Out of what?"

"Out of this. Out of my contract. I'm sick of it. I want out, and I want your word that I won't be hunted down, brought back, brainwashed, killed, or put on any mailing lists. I promise I won't spill the beans on anything going on here, the people working for you, or how you like to fall asleep watching _Seinfeld _reruns. I want out."

"May I ask why?"

"'Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?'" (2)

"I see." Magneto spun around in his chair and opened a drawer in his filing cabinet. His fingers fluttered through the tabs on the folders until he pulled out one marked Pyro - St. John Allerdyce. He flipped open the file folder and pulled out a slightly singed document. Magneto scanned the page, flipped to the next. "The contract you signed clearly states that you will work for me for a year on a trail basis, then your contract will be up for renegotiation or termination without any consequences."

"I remember."

"You do realize that you have three more months on your contract."

"Yes."

Magneto replaced the contract and shut the folder. "You wish to break this contract."

"No, I want to take tango lessons."

Magneto's eyes narrowed. "A smart mouth will get you no where here."

"Sorry, but I lost my dumb one." The Master of Magnetism refused to comment, only glared and waited for the Aussie to continue or leave. "Can't you make an exception?"

"'A man in my position can't afford to make exceptions. I mean, once word leaks out that a villain's gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time.'" (3)

"You don't want me working for you anymore."

"Are you trying to use Jedi powers, or are you threatening me?"

"Neither. I'm just not much use to you like this, and I'm not going to get better hanging around here."

Magneto considered this. As much as he would rejoice without the firebug in his hair, Pyro was a powerful mutant with control over his powers. He hadn't had much success training mutants from the emergent stage - just look at the Brotherhood. Finding a jewel like Pyro and the others was rare.

Ultimately, his allegiance was the most important thing. If Pyro was unhappy, he was less likely to follow orders. But Magneto was unwilling to cut his strings in an instant. Pyro must be reminded of the greater mission: Mutant supremacy. Humans couldn't be trusted when it came to mutants. They had to defend themselves against the current and approaching threat.

Magneto thought of a compromise. "Very well. I have a mission next week that I have already included you in. If you complete that mission successfully and still want to quit, we will come up with a new deal." Magneto hoped that the mission would reignite Pyro's faith in the ultimate goal.

This was going better than John had hoped. Just one more week. He could live through that. "What's the mission?"

"You'll find out at the briefing tomorrow. Five o'clock, YMCA building, room 142."

"Isn't that a little public? Why don't we just meet here? Save the commute across the street."

"The Brotherhood is also included in this mission. There are certain members of that group I cannot fully trust not to reveal the location of our headquarters to the X-Men."

"Now I know where the paranoia comes from," John mumbled. "I don't know if I'll make it. It's pretty far. I'll have to carpool. Do you know of anyone passing my way?"

"Are you finished?"

"Can I have some gas money?"

Magneto clicked his tongue in annoyance. The antique-looking phone on Magneto's desk rang. "Leave. I don't want to see you again until tomorrow." He picked up the receiver and greeted the person on the other end. Magneto noticed that John was taking his time leaving his office, so he helped him. It was Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, yet again. Except this time Pyro spilled off the chair into the wall at the other end of the hallway. The metal chair zoomed back into Magneto's office, and the door slammed. John brushed himself off and headed to the garage to weld the car back together.

Back in the boss's office, the phone conversation continued: "Sorry for the disturbance, what do you have to report?"

"Nothing. Nothing's going on. I'm thinking about taking up knitting for something to do," came the fuzzy reply.

"Have the girl's powers developed?"

The other person snapped, "No. If they had, something would be happening. And nothing is."

"Many people would kill to get paid for doing nothing."

"Killing? Now that would be a nice change of pace."

"I do have something that needs to be looked into. It probably won't involve killing, but it would be a change of scenery."

There was a sigh on the line. "Fine, spill it."

* * *

Like all storms it started as one drop. A minute later it was cats and dogs. Piotr and Kitty were caught in the middle of it. They ran to the nearest building, but it provided little shelter.

Kitty squeezed water out of her pony tail, only to have it saturated again. "You called it." 

"I wish I had not." He watched Kitty attempt to dry herself off under the small ledge. He took off his leather jacket and put it around Kitty's shoulders.

"You don't have to do that." She started to take the jacket back off, but a large hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"No, you are cold."

"But now you're cold," she argued.

"I am used to the cold. Please keep the jacket on," he insisted.

Kitty shrugged and slipped her arms into the sleeves. It was like she was swimming leather. "If it makes you feel better.. . "

"Now what should we do?"

"Find some place dry?"

"What about one of the places you were going to show me on the tour of Bayville?"

"Most of the places around here are offices. The closest place is this bookstore. . ."

"It is dry?"

"Yes."

"Let us hurry. I believe I am rusting, and I left my oil can on my bike."

Kitty smiled and grabbed his hand. "Are you ready to run?"

He nodded and they took off. The couple splashed through puddles in the street until they reached their destination. When they entered an entire room filled with small, bright eyes turned toward the drowned rats. The kids found less interesting than the story they were listening to, so they quickly forgot about Kitty and Piotr.

As they shook the rain off, Piotr bent down and whispered, "This is a children's bookstore?"

"Yes, but isn't it cute? When I've had a really bad day, I come here. It always cheers me up."

"How does it do that?"

Kitty shrugged. "I guess I just remember how happy I was as a kid with my parents. Before life got all complicated. And happy kids are contagious."

Piotr smiled. "Yes, they are."

They joined the story circle at the very back and continued to whisper to each other. "You're remembering your sister aren't you?"

Piotr smiled and nodded.

"Tell me a story about her."

Piotr hesitated, so Kitty grabbed his hand and squeezed it. She didn't let go through the rest of story-time. She didn't even let go when the time came to leave. They walked through the storm back to Piotr's motorcycle, Kitty still wearing his jacket, keeping each other warm through their words, their hands, and their smiles.

* * *

"How was the zoo?" the pastey man in the lab coat said, without looking up from his microscope.

"Smelt like shit and saturated fat. The Fool felt quite at home. Scrambler won me an oversized bear made by three-fingered Guatemalan children."

The scientist stood up and moved over to a spinning centrifuge. He shut it off and removed a microcentrifuge tube. He continued with his experiment and ignored the girl in the borrowed body.

"You're angry with me," Malice said finally.

The man sat down in front of a computer and flipped through data and graphs. 

"Say something."

He replied but didn't look at her, "You came back empty-handed."

Malice's voice rose. "It's not my fault. If they had been there to back me up like they were supposed to - "

He glared at Malice with his beady black eyes. "Stop blaming your shortcomings on the faults of others."

Ashamed, Malice looked at the ground. "I'm sorry. But it still isn't my fault. And I didn't come back empty-handed."

"You don't have any samples."

Malice pulled a crumpled sheet of notebook paper out of her pocket. "I do have a list of all the X-Men and their powers. If you wanted to start the inquiry program with one of them, you could."

The boss snatched the sheet of paper from her hand. He scanned the list impatiently. Malice knew she had at least done something right that day when the corner of his mouth turned up. "Two telepaths. Are you sure you didn't sabotage the mission on purpose?"

Malice ground her teeth. Her eyes burned at the insult. "I'm not afraid of telepaths."

He gave her a skeptical look. "It seems to me that all of my samples of telepath DNA disappear before I can do anything with them. They seem to find a new way to do it every time, which is as impressive as it is annoying."

Malice didn't comment on his suspicions. Everyone knew it was her ruining the samples, but no one ever caught her. The boss had it wrong: She wasn't afraid of telepaths. She just didn't want a telepath on the team. She didn't trust them. And they had the potential to best her. The boss had wanted one for so long that Malice feared the extra competition for his attention. She already had the Fool to compete with; she didn't need some high and mighty telepath as well.

The Fool didn't care about being the first choice or the best; she did. Why couldn't Essex see that? At least he had given her a compliment. Maybe he was beginning to figure it out.

"Do you want to start any inquiries or not?"

Essex took out a red pen and circled three names on the list. "From what you have here, these three are worth it. I'll start with samples on the rest and go from there." He turned back to his work.

Malice grabbed the list from his outstretched hand. "You don't want her. The Rogue."

"And why would that be?"

Malice gave him the details about her encounter that afternoon. At first Essex's eyes were glued to the monitor. A few sentences into her story, he turned to listen to her. His expression shifted from merely listening to hanging on her every word.

"Interesting. . . but you're wrong. You don't want her because you can't control her body. Your story actually makes me more curious." The doctor spun in his chair and fiddled with some graphs on a computer. "Get Prism going on the inquiries. I want you to go back and get samples tomorrow. I had other plans for them, but the boys will - "

Malice interrupted him. "I don't need back up. I learned enough today to plan a way for me to get into the mansion. I only worry about Charles Xavier figuring it out while I'm there."

Essex's face was stern. "Don't be overconfident. You failed me today. I will not be happy if it happens a second time."

"It won't." Malice, dismissed, left the room to give orders to Prism.

Dr. Nathaniel Essex tapped his pen on the table. "A mutant who can imprint another mutant's powers. How intriguing."

* * *

Another fall thunderstorm raged outside Xavier's Institute. The weatherman said it would dissipate completely over Michigan, but once it hit the Great Lakes again, it picked up more water and speed to continue its rampage.

Rogue was sitting in a desk chair next to the glass balcony doors. The curtains were barely open, but it was enough for Rogue to watch the storm. In her lap, she fingered her purple sweater. It was cold next to the window, but she didn't want to put it on. The sweater had betrayed her that day, although she couldn't figure out how. She couldn't find any holes in the sleeve that Alice could have touched her through.

She was shuffling through the new memories added to her collection. It wasn't much, just brief flashes, a few people and a burning house. There wasn't even enough of a memory to name any of the people. Rogue locked them away. They'd never be any use to her. She had hoped there would be something about Alice's relationship with Remy, but there was only a memory of him and black-haired man in a suitjacket smoking and watching television. Alice was angry at them, and they laughed at her qualms.

Someone yelped and screamed, disrupting Rogue's thoughts. A moment later Kitty floated in through the floor. She was soaked to the bone and shivering, but she was smiling.

"You'd think the newbies'd be used to me phasing by now," Kitty complained.

"Why didn' ya take the normal way up?"

"It takes too long, and I'm, like, catching pneumonia." Kitty pealed off her wet clothes in exchange for her flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Rogue went back to watching the storm.

When she was finished changing, Kitty flopped on the foot of Rogue's bed, facing the mutant a few feet away in the desk chair. "So..."

"So what?" Rogue snapped.

"You promised."

It took a minute for Rogue to remember the conversation they had that morning in the locker room. It seemed so long ago. "Oh, that."

Kitty sensed a new development in the story she had yet to hear. "Now what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Rogue, stop this. You can tell me. It's off the gossip record. It's eating you up inside, I can tell. If you don't tell me, you at least have to tell someone."

Too much had happened the last two days. Rogue was emotionally drained from the reconciliation, the secrecy, the scene between Remy and Alice, then meeting Alice. Kitty was right. She had to tell someone, and she didn't have enough energy to resist her roommate's inquiries.

Rogue started at the junkyard the day before and ended with her zapping her with Ray's still-active powers and the orange troll on the football field. All the while, Kitty sat cross-legged on Rogue's bed with attentive posture and wide eyes. Rogue expected the girl to at least interrupt at the revelation about Piotr's family, but she contained herself.

"So that's it. Some girlfriend Remy was scared ta tell meh 'bout is back. She gives meh the creeps, but he still likes her. Ah wouldn' be surprised if she wants ta get back together with him."

Kitty bit her lip. She really wanted to discuss Piotr's situation with the Goth, but her friend's crisis must come first. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"What do ya mean? Nothin'. Ah'm his friend, so Ah'll probably tell him how creepy she was, but..." Rogue shrugged. "She likes him, and he likes her. Pretty open an' shut."

Kitty resituated herself on the bed and started counting on her hands. "Rogue, Rogue, Rogue. Step one: You need to admit that you like Remy."

"'Course Ah like him, we're friends aren' we?"

Kitty perked up. "This conversation is sounding very familiar. . . . oh, yeah, it sounds like when you were giving me advice about Peter." (4)

"Just had ta go an' throw that in mah face."

"I wouldn't be a real friend if I didn't. Now, repeat after me: 'I, Rogue, like Remy LeBeau. And not just like, but like like.'"

"Ah'm not sayin' 'like like.'"

"You just did."

Rogue blew a hair out of her face. "So what if Ah do? He likes Alice."

"You don't know that."

"After seein' them in the alley, it's a pretty safe bet."

"Somebody once told me not to bet against her. And since I have to go on a date with a twelve-year-old because I did, I'm going to live by that advice now." (5)

"Ya're gonna get all Pat Benetar on meh, ain' ya?" (6)

Kitty smiled. "You betcha."

"What's the point? Ah know who he's gonna choose. She can touch him; Ah can't. End o' story." Rogue turned toward the storm again.

Meanwhile, Kitty had an epiphany. "So that's what this is about. You don't want to get rejected, so you're using your powers as an excuse."

The Goth's gaze shot daggers. She spoke through clenched teeth. "No. Ah just don' see the point in gettin' attached when we will inevitably break up 'cause o' them. Ah can't give him what he wants."

"And you know what he wants? Rogue, Remy would have given up long ago if all he wanted to do was get in your pants."

"But he would eventually. If he, by some whim of fate, wanted meh over Alice, one day he'd get it through his thick skull that Ah'll never control mah powers an' will forever be trapped in mah own body. Then he'll leave. He's a man, not a eunuch."

"I, personally, don't think that - " Kitty was interrupted by a knock on their bedroom door.

Amara poked her head in. "Phone for Rogue."

"She'll call them back," Kitty declared.

Rogue stood up and walked to the bedroom door. "What gives ya the right ta deny meh mah phone calls?"

Kitty smiled evilly. "It could be Remy."

Rogue paled. She turned to the New Mutant. "Who is it?"

"Wanda."

Rogue sighed with relief and snatched the cordless from the Nova Roman's hand. After sending an angry glare to Kitty, Rogue started conversing with the Witch.

Kitty rolled her eyes and got up from Rogue's bed. She noticed Amara still standing in the doorway. "Do you need something, Amara?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about something," she answered timidly.

Kitty glanced at Rogue. From the look on the Goth's face, Kitty knew she would stay on the phone for as long as possible, just to spite her. The Valley Girl sighed. "Looks like I have an opening. Come in, sit down."

Amara entered the room and sat on the edge of Kitty's bed. Kitty joined her. Amara looked from her hands to Kitty's face. "It's more of a favor, really."

"Shoot."

"I met this guy a while back, and I really liked him. He practically worshiped me, but we didn't exchange numbers or anything. I was wondering if you could hook me up with him again. Maybe you and Peter and me and him could all go out together or something."

"I'd love to, but you're going to have to tell me who he is first."

Amara blushed. "Oh, yeah. It's St. John."

Kitty's mind went numb. Amara had managed to render the perky girl speechless.

"You know, Pyro. I figured he and Peter were friends, being on the same team and all," Amara leaned in and whispered the next part, "the Acolytes."

Kitty's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

"Kitty, are you okay?"

"St. John Allerdyce? Skinny Australian with crazy orange hair?"

"Yep," Amara sat up straighter and smiled. "We went shopping and got frozen yogurt. Then some loony started chasing him, and we got separated."

Kitty's face wrinkled in confusion. "The pyromaniac that manipulates fire?"

Amara had a dreamy look in her eyes. "Yes, he's funny. When we met, I was at the mall. Tabby had run off after some guy, so I was alone. Then he ran into me, I didn't recognize him at first. He was covered in black paint from head to toe. Really scared me, and I turned into my magma form without thinking. His eyes got real wide, and he started bowing to me. Then mall security came over and started hassling me because I was a mutant. Well, John stood up for me, and we gave security the slip."

"St. John with the maniacal laugh?"

Amara giggled. "Isn't it the best? He doesn't let anything phase him: mall security, tripping and falling into things. Life is just one big fun joke. I was so mad about Tabby ditching me again, and he made me feel so much better." Amara blushed and looked at her hands. "After I got him some new clothes, we made out."

Kitty choked. "What?"

"Well, we kissed. Once. But it was open mouth. He calls me his fire pixie." (7)

The Valley Girl, again rendered speechless, didn't blink for a minute.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you sure it was Pyro?"

"Yes, how many St. Johns does Magneto have working for him?"

Kitty stared straight ahead. "Dear, God, I hope there is only one."

"What do you mean?"

Kitty took Amara's hands in hers. "I don't think you really want to date John. He's not your type."

Amara ripped her hands from under Kitty's. "How do you know what I want? Just because you have some problem with him doesn't mean we can't date. You and Rogue are dating Magneto's men. Why can't I?"

"For one, he's much too old for you. And above all, he is _not_ like Remy and Peter. He's insane."

Amara rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "That's your opinion. I like him," she huffed.

Kitty grabbed Amara's shoulders and forced the younger girl to look at her. "I seriously doubt he likes you. He's still hung up on," Kitty shot a glance at Rogue still on the phone, pacing nervously, "his ex-girlfriend."

The New Mutant snorted. "I'll make him forget about her in an instant."

"Amara - "

Abruptly the girl stood up and stomped to the door. "I'm not a baby. I didn't ask you to look out for me. I want one little favor. But if that's too much to ask, then I guess I can't be troubled with doing any favors for you anymore."

Kitty ran through her bed and blocked the door. "What do you mean by that?"

"You asked me not to let on who your new boyfriend really is to anyone. I won't do it anymore."

"Why you little..." Kitty stopped, realizing she was defeated. "Fine. I'll, like, try, if that's what you really want. Just keep your snotty mouth shut."

Amara's threatening gaze turned into a bright smile. "Thanks, Kitty. You're the best!" She brushed past the X-Man.

Kitty slammed the door and fell onto her bed. She turned her head from her comforter to see a curious Rogue, no longer talking on the phone.

"What was that all 'bout?"

"She wants to date John."

"John who?"

"Pyro."

Rogue waited for a punchline. "That's a joke, right?"

"I wish. She's totally blackmailing me. She only wants to date him because we're dating Remy and Peter, and she has some star-crossed lovers fantasy pasted in her head." Rogue opened her mouth to respond, but Kitty cut her off. "And don't you dare say that you and Remy aren't dating. I'm sick of that line."

"Ah was gonna ask ya for Peter's number."

"Why?"

"Ah throw out Remy's, and Ah need ta talk ta him."

Kitty leapt up excitedly. "I made it though to you! Finally!" She ran to her Palm Pilot and read off the number for her roommate.

In less than two minutes, she had Remy on the other line. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself, chere. How's it goin'?" Rogue could hear his sly smile in his voice.

"Ah need ta know what ya found out 'bout Wanda," she said, business-like. "She called an' started askin' questions 'bout John's 'amnesiac ex'."

"Sure, d'ough it isn' very good. How 'bout I meet up wit' you tomorrow, after school? Unless you want ta play hooky, den we can get together earlier."

"Can' ya just tell meh over the phone?"

"But I want to see you." Rogue heard some kissing noises in the background. "Shut up, John-boy. Go get some milk." There was some scuffling before Remy put the phone back to his mouth. "Sorry, 'bout dat. Why don' you want to meet me tomorrow? You busy wit' hero stuff?"

"No," Rogue replied, then kicked herself. It would have been an easy out. "Ah figured ya'd be busy with villain stuff."

"Not 'til later."

"Subbin' fo' John on the corner again?"

"No, had to stop dat. Couldn' compete wit' de Siamese twins. Are we meetin' tomorrow or not?"

"Fine, whatever, see ya tomorrow."

"Hold on a minute. Are you mad at me?"

"Gotta go, swamp rat." Rogue heard him say something else, but she just hung up. Kitty was glaring at her when she did.

"What?" Rogue snapped.

"I though you had come to your senses about this thing. I guess not."

Rogue stood up and walked to the window. "Ah'm not the one livin' in fantasy land here."

"Why do you have to be such a pessimist?"

"Why do ya have ta be such an idealist?"

"Rogue, Remy doesn't care that he can't sleep with you!" she exclaimed.

"He will."

"Can't you just live in the moment for once?"

"Ah'm not gonna change mah mind 'bout this, so drop it." Rogue kicked her chair backward toward her closet.

Kitty sighed. She hated when Rogue got like this. She was always a hard person to talk to, but when she started huffing and puffing and physically showing her frustration, Kitty knew it was time to stop. At this point, Rogue was as angry with herself as she was with Kitty. 

Rogue looked out the window and sighed. "Ah'm gonna go work out." Rogue grabbed a duffel bag off the floor and headed for the door. With her hand on the door frame, she turned back, looking her roommate in the eye. "Ah think Ah do like Remy." She shut the door.

Kitty leaned over and stuck her head through the wall. "It's about time!"

* * *

(1) Rosie Trains is a sculptress from the city my parents live in. She uses old tools and machinery pieces to make figures. My favorite is the Lhasa Apso made of bicycle chains.  
(2) Come on, people, this is an easy one to recognize. I bet you've all seen the movie. I don't know what you're doing here if you haven't.  
(3) Adapted quote from _Princess Bride_.  
(4) See Nine to Five: Chapter 12 - "The Day After".  
(5) See Nine to Five: Chapter 17 - "And You Got That From Potatoes?"  
(6) Referring to Pat Benetar's hit "Love is a Battlefield".  
(7) For anyone who doesn't remember, check out Nine to Five: Epilogue Part III.

* * *

**A/N:** I need some ideas for other bodies/people Malice currently has in stock, preferably canon characters. Leave some ideas of who'd you like to see possessed in a review or in my forum. 


	8. Listen to Me

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Eight: Listen to Me**

"Bonjour, chere," Remy called from the shadows. Rogue stopped walking. The Cajun grabbed her by the arm and playfully pulled her into the alley. "Beginnin' to t'ink you stood me up."

Rogue angrily shook herself free from his grasp. "Ah would have if Ah knew ya were gonna manhandle meh."

"Dat was not 'manhandlin'. If you want, I can show you manhandlin' later." Remy finished his sentence with a wink.

"Just tell meh what ya found out 'bout Wanda," she demanded.

Remy scrutinized her. "I d'ought everythin' was all right 'tween us. Why are you all testy all of a sudden?"

"Sorry, mah giddy personality moved out. Ya'll have ta make due."

Remy's frustration increased tenfold. "Why are you mad at me?"

Rogue looked away. "Ah'm not."

"You're a shitty liar."

She turned her eyes back to the Cajun and pointed to herself. "Ah'm mad at meh. Ya just happen ta be a great punchin' bag."

"Why's dat?"

"Ya're not very bouncy, an' ya don't bruise easily."

"What's goin' on?"

"Ya're supposed ta be tellin' meh that: What's goin' on with Wanda?"

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Ya don' need ta know."

"But somethin's botherin' you. I d'ought we were friends. I d'ought we were becomin' a little more." Remy took a step into Rogue's personal space bubble.

She snorted at his words, remembering how Alice had perceived their relationship. Jealousy dripped from her words. "Ah bet ya say that ta all the girls."

"You t'ink I'm seein' other girls?"

Before Rogue could reply, she heard a commotion behind her. Without hesitation, she dropped the argument with Remy and sprinted out into the street where a young girl had fallen off her bicycle. She scooped up the child covered in protective gear, just seconds before a Hummer blindly ran over her. Rogue stopped in the vacant left turn lane for the traffic to clear. After the Hummer passed, Remy jogged out to join her, snatching up the bent bike with the sparkly tassels on the way.

"I knew I was interruptin' your hero work today," Remy joked.

"Ya'd expect meh ta let her become road kill?" Rogue shouted over the traffic and the girl crying on her shoulder.

"No, I was kiddin' - "

Rogue cut him off before he could make the situation right. "This is more important than you!" She nodded to the girl in her arms. "No matter how much Ah like ya, ya won't be here forever. But people will always need meh, even if ya don't."

"Whoah, whoah." Remy put his hand up defensively. "What in de world are you talkin' 'bout, chere? I'm not goin' anywhere."

Rogue shook her head. "But ya will." She shifted the girl in her arms so she rested more on her hip. The girl swung her arms around Rogue's bare neck and buried her head deeper in the mutant's chest. "Ya'll - " Rogue had a flash of Superman ice cream and people she knew but didn't know. "- SHIT!" Rogue dropped the girl, but Remy was able to catch her before her head hit the asphalt.

Rogue ran her hands through her hair and started pacing. "Shit! Shit! SHIT!"

Remy picked up the unconscious girl threshold style. "Calm down. De petite will be all right in a few minutes. No harm -"

Rogue pointed a finger in the Cajun's face. "That's where you're wrong! I hurt her. I saved her, then I hurt her. And that's how it's always gonna be. Why can' ya get that through your thick skull?" She began pacing again.

". . . Are we back to how you aren' mad at me?"

Rogue stopped and pleaded, "Why are ya doin' this ta meh? Why can' ya just run off an' be with Alice an' leave meh be? She wants ya back, an' it looked like ya felt the same way. . . .Why do ya keep givin' meh this glimmer o' hope that Ah could have somethin' normal in mah life, even though Ah know it'll never be?"

The Cajun was more confused than ever. "What? All I ever did was want to spend time wit' you, to know you. To be dere fo' you, to have you _let me _be dere fo' you. How am I torturing you? And who de hell is Alice?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "'Who's Alice?' Stop lyin'! Ah saw ya two together two days ago, all comfy in each other's arms. She came ta see meh yesterday after school. Told meh all 'bout how ya used ta date - "

Remy's eyes narrowed. "I never dated any Alice . . . " he trailed off when he finally put two and two together. "Cette putain!" Remy ran to catch up with Rogue, leaving the broken bike in the turn lane. He struggled to physically stop her from leaving while keeping the unconscious girl balanced in her arms. "Rogue! Stop! Listen to me! Let me explain!"

Rogue turned but didn't stop walking away from him. "Ya don' need ta explain anythin'. We're friends, nothin' more, nothin' less. Ever."

"I don' want things to be like dat 'tween us!"

Rogue finally stopped and faced him, exhausted. "An' how do ya want them ta be?"

"I want to be wit' you! I t'ink - " The child in his arms started to stir, so he dumped her onto the lap of a red hatter waiting for a bus. "I t'ink I'm fallin' in love wit' you!"

At least the Cajun got a nod of approval from the old, eccentric lady. Rogue was another matter. She looked at her sneakers and took a deep breath. She looked Remy straight in the eye. "Ya can' love somethin' ya can' touch."

"Is dat what dis is 'bout? How many times do I have ta tell you dat's crap?"

Rogue tilted her head to the side. "Ya'll get bored o' meh one day, swamp rat."

"No, I won't. And dat's not the issue. I really feel sorry fo' you, Rogue. Sorry you t'ink dat you can't love people 'cause o' your powers. Look at how many people love you despite all de walls you surround yourself wit'."

"That's not the kind of love we're talkin' 'bout."

Remy straightened up. "Non, but I can still love you." He paused and stared her down. "But you can't love me. 'Cause I'll never be able to touch you. Even if I can convince you otherwise, first guy dat comes along dat can really touch you, will steal you away in a second." He backed away, surprised at his own revelation.

"Remy. . ." she started but couldn't finish. He turned his back and quickened his step. "REMY!" she called one last time, but he ignored her.

* * *

Scott Summers stood in the sleek sublevel of Xavier's Institute, staring at the door that lead to Cerebro and smiling. It was Scott's body, anyway. His mind was in a state of suspension, hazily existing as if in a dream while the mutant know Malice was in control. 

Her plan had run as smoothly as she expected. She lurked around Bayville High until Scott was finished talking to the counselor and asking teachers for letters of recommendation for college. The school was practically deserted. Malice followed him at a distance, waiting for the perfect opportunity to ditch Diamonda's body for good and take on Scott. When he entered the men's bathroom on his way out, she knew the time had come.

Scott turned his head slightly when he heard the door swing open, but the possession was fast. Malice finished emptying his bladder, zipped up, and washed Scott's hands.

As she dried them, Diamonda was finally stirring from the floor. The blonde girl shook her head and rubbed her eyes until they focused. She sensed Malice was in the body of the man at the sink and crawled backward into a stall.

Scott/Malice laughed. "Di, how many times do I have to tell you that you are pretty much helpless against me?" Malice crossed the room and squatted in front of the frightened girl. "I know that you loved the time we've spent together as much as I have, but it's time we parted ways. Don't cry. I know that in the rest of your life you will never accomplice anything as momentous as I did while I was in your body, but that's no reason to get all sappy. Run away, little girl."

Diamonda made a move to the door but hesitated, wondering if it was a trick. Further torment. Malice stood up and stepped back, giving the girl a clear shot at the door. She took it and ran fast and far. She didn't stop for hours.

Malice took a moment to scan Scott's memories and gather essential information to finish her mission. That was when she discovered Cerebro. She couldn't believe her luck. Essex would be ecstatic to get the information stored in the telepathic machine. Not only would she have detailed information on each of the X-Men, but she'd have preliminary information about each and every mutant Cerebro ever scanned. Malice wished it was closer to Christmas so she could wrap it up as a present.

She still went forward with her plan to collect samples, in case Cerebro's data did not include genetic information. Half the team was working in the Danger Room with their rooms unguarded. Most of the others were gone as well, so it was easy for her to slip into rooms and find something with their DNA on it.

She checked his watch. Four-thirty: Catheter check. _I've got seven to ten minutes, before the paralyzed telepath comes back_. With Scott's bookbag full of samples slung over her shoulder, Malice palmed the security pad to gain access to the Cerebro room. Not wanting to waste any time, she held in her laughter at the sight of the large, round room and ran to the computer console. She picked up the helmet and placed it on Scott's head. It was still warm. On a whim, she touched a random key. The black screen brightened and several file frames popped up on the screen. _Thank God, because I stumbled through hacking 101.  
_  
Malice familiarized herself with the interface and started copying files onto a blank DVD she had stolen from a New Mutant's rooms. Through ruby-quartz glasses, she stared at the slowly moving status bar, willing it to go faster. She checked his watch again. She tapped his fingers on the console. Finally the computer made a rewarding ding, and the DVD popped out.

She didn't bother to close the drive after she snatched the DVD and stuffed it into Scott's bookbag. Malice felt the last grains of sand fall from the hourglass as she ran down the hallway and called the elevator.

"Scott, why are you running? Is something amiss?" Professor Xavier emerged from a side door between the elevator and Cerebro.

Malice tensed and spun around. "No, I was . . . looking for Jean. Thought she might be . . . uh . . .practicing in Cerebro." The Professor squinted and cocked his head. Malice winced inwardly. She worded that sentence completely wrong, but she didn't have time to scan Scott's memories for jargon and mannerisms.

"No, the Danger Room session just ended. I'm sure she will be upstairs soon." The Professor wheeled forward. "Are you feeling all right? You're not acting like yourself."

Malice knew it was mere seconds before Xavier scanned their minds, if he hadn't already. She had to make her move. Behind her the elevator door opened, but she couldn't run now. Instead she reached up and removed the ruby-quartz sunglasses. She smirked at the shocked look on Xavier's face as he was enveloped in red light and flew through the steel door to Cerebro.

Amara, still in her battle uniform, started screaming in the open elevator. Malice replaced Scott's glasses and slowly turned to the frightened and confused girl.

* * *

"You want to hear something funny?" Kitty asked Piotr as he pushed her in a swing. They had decided to meet at a park and had wandered over to the playground equipment. 

"Okay."

"Amara wants to date Pyro."

Piotr scrunched his face in confusion. "Amara is the girl we went to the movies with, yes?" Kitty nodded. "Are you sure this is not a practical joke being played?"

"I wish. I told her I wouldn't help her, that he really wasn't her type, and she threatened to tell everybody that you're Colossus. So I was hoping you could help me arrange some sort of double date with them."

Piotr stopped pushing the swing. "What is wrong with the X-Men knowing about me? Everyone knows that Rogue is dating Remy."

Kitty turned her head so she could see her companion. "And have you seen what she's gone through? I'd rather have Jean and Scott out of my business."

The Ruski was hurt. "So I am a secret?"

"Yes. No. Kind of. They all know I'm dating a guy named Peter, but they don't know that you are Colossus, minion of Magneto."

Piotr frowned. "I am not a minion."

"Sorry, I like alliteration."

"How do they not know I am both?"

The swing had come to a stop. Kitty stood up and walked over to Piotr. "It's the Superman complex. How can so many people who know both Clark Kent and Superman, not figure out they are the same man? When you're Peter, you are this shy, sweet, teddy bear guy. When you're Colossus, you are this strong, silent, 'I can snap you in two if I want to' guy."

"But I am the same person."

"I guess you see different pieces of you when you are on the job and off."

"I see," Piotr replied, but his expression said otherwise.

"I like all the pieces." Kitty stood on her tip-toes and gave Piotr a peck on the cheek. That brightened his mood.

"I believe I can live with that."

Kitty smiled and lead the Russian away from the swing set. "I'm hungry. Let's grab something to eat."

"Okay."

They settled on a destination and headed off. Kitty eventually returned to the earlier subject. "So will you help me out with this Amara thing?"

"What do I need to do?"

"Convince John to go out to dinner or something with the three of us."

"It is difficult to get John out of the warehouse lately."

"I'm not above tricking and abducting. Especially if I get to hit him over the head with a blunt object." Kitty smiled evilly.

"I do not know. . ."

"I'm sure that this is only a one time thing. Once Amara realizes that the John she met and fantasized about is not the same one in real life, she'll move on."

Piotr looked skeptical. This called for drastic measures. Kitty's eyes grew large and watery. "Please?" she pouted.

"I will try. I may need Remy's help."

"That's a great idea! Maybe it won't be such a disaster if we Remy and Rogue came too. I'll work on Rogue. Are you busy Saturday night?"

"Two days? 'That doesn't leave much time for dilly-dally.'" (1)

"'Dilly-dally?'"

"John thinks I need to use more slang words."

"Has he taught you any from this decade?"

"Probably not."

"Do me a favor?"

"Another one?" he teased.

"Next time John suggests something to do, ask me or Remy about it first."

The two reached the restaurant. Piotr held the door open for the petite X-Man. "I can do that."

* * *

"It was so scary," Amara sobbed into Ororo's shoulder. "The door opened, and Scott was there blasting the Professor through the wall! It. .. It. . ." 

The African mutant patted the girl's shaking back. "You do not have to speak, child. You are still in shock. You should rest." Amara's breathing became deeper, but she still clung to Ororo.

There were scorch marks all along the hallway where Cyclops and Magma battled until Storm and Beast had arrived on the scene to take Cyclops out. Beast had taken the unconscious young man to a holding cell. Xavier was in stable condition in the med lab; McCoy was tending to him. Ororo and Amara sat on an examination table across the room.

No one knew what had caused Xavier's first student to go postal. If Storm hadn't seen Cyclops attacking Magma, yelling nonsense about kidnapping him, she wouldn't have believed it. At first Storm thought Mystique may have been behind it, but Jean had scanned Xavier and confirmed his identity. Both Cyclops and Magma had used their powers. Mystique couldn't have faked those.

The door opened and Logan rushed in. "I leave the mansion for an hour, and all hell breaks loose. What's goin' on?" McCoy filled Logan in on what they knew, which wasn't much. All the while the feral mutant's eyes kept glancing at Ororo and Amara across the room.

Amara watched him over Ororo's shoulder. _He can sense me_. Malice was surprised. Usually a person had to either be possessed by her or spend a lot of time around her before they could pick her out. She had to get out before the Wolverine acted on his suspicions.

Malice lifted Amara's head off Storm's shoulder and exclaimed, "Oh my God! I almost forgot! Tabby!"

"What about Tabitha?"

Malice wiped tears from her worried face. "That's why I came looking for Scott in the first place! I needed a ride to meet her at the mall. She's probably there waiting for me now!" She jumped off the cot and began pacing. "What am I going to do? I've got to get there."

"Why don't you just call her and cancel? She was an X-Men; I'm sure she'll understand."

"But - but - I can't call her. She's kind of between numbers right now." Malice looked down at her hands, showing Storm that the subject of Tabby's living arrangements was something she wasn't supposed to talk about.

"Very well." Storm stood up as well. "I'll take you to the mall to tell her what happened. But you cannot stay. We should not even be leaving the mansion, given the situation."

Amara's eyes swelled with gratitude. "Oh, thank you, Storm!" She hugged the weather witch. "I have to go upstairs and change out of my uniform first. I won't be long." Malice bound out of the room.

After the elevator doors closed, Malice climbed on the railing and opened the maintenance access panel. She removed Scott's backpack that she had slipped in there while he was still dazed from the possession. With the bag slung over her back, she confidently strode down the dormitory hallway to Amara's room. She transferred all of her samples to Amara's largest purse, a sequined sling number. Malice kissed the Cerebro DVD and slipped it in last.

In consideration of the afternoon's events, Ororo did not bother making small talk with the traumatized girl on the way to the mall. She pulled up to one of the many entrances to the shopping center.

"I'll wait here. Don't be long."

"I won't," Malice grabbed the sequined purse and bounded into the building. Fifteen minutes later she came back, with a confused look in her eye.

Ororo was puzzled by the expression on Amara's face. "Did you find Tabitha?"

She mumbled a response and slid into the passenger seat. "Have you ever thought you were dreaming something, only to find out later that it really happened?"

Ororo nodded. "I know what happened today with Scott was inconceivable. I'm sure we will have a proper explanation about what happened when he wakes."

Amara put her chin in her hand and looked out the window. "I hope so."

Ororo don't notice that Amara came back without her purse.

* * *

"How 'bout this one?" John held up a DVD case. 

Gambit shook his head. "You'll never get me to watch _Flesh-Eating Mothers_, so stop tryin'."

"But it has blood, gore, horrible special effects, and even worse actors. 'A venereal disease turns an entire town of two-timing mothers into cannibals!' It sounds both educational, and it has a moral message about fidelity."

"Didn' realize you had morals."

John looked down at the movie cover. "Oh, yeah, I forgot." He returned the movie to its place.

The briefing with the Brotherhood had been uneventful aside from Piotr being late. Sure, John's snored, Pietro's choked on a piece of candy Wanda hexed down his throat, and Fred slipped on the puddle of drool Todd secreted, but those were not unusual occurrences. Afterwards the Acolyte boys decided to get take out and rent a movie to start celebrating John's departure. The Aussie wanted to throw a party every night until they left for the mission, but Remy had talked him down to the usual drinking and movie mocking nights with some extra streamers and balloons.

Piotr was in charge of getting the food, so Remy could fill John in on what exactly was going on next week: Eliminating the Pow-R8 company. The plant in Bayville was just a subsidiary manufacturing and packaging plant. Wednesday everyone was taking the train to Jacksonville, Florida, where Pow-R8's headquarters was located. The headquarters consisted of the central offices and a research and development plant. Magneto acquired blueprints of both, which Gambit was to analyze for points of entry and exit. The mission would consist of scoping out the place with lookouts Thursday night and finding out where they stored the back-up computer files. Then, during the Jacksonville Light Parade on the St. John's River, the team would steal the back-up copies to see if there was anything else Pow-R8 was up to, destroy all the computer and hard files, and destroy the plant itself while Mastermind covered their alibi by making them all "present" at the festivities. After the factory was nothing but a pile of smoldering concrete, the Brotherhood and Acolytes would join up with Mastermind for the after parties. Sunday morning they would all get on the train back to New York.

Remy's fingers passed along the video store shelves, but he wasn't scanning the titles. He was keeping his eye on the person who had been following them since he and John had walked from the party store near the Bayville Mall with arms full of balloons and streamers. Remy wasn't sure they were being followed until they walked back to the video store in the same strip mall and the person backtracked as well.

The spy never allowed herself to be seen for more than a second, but it didn't matter. Remy knew who it was. The same person who had caused him to get so much grief from Rogue: Malice. Who else could it be? She was in a different body, he could tell that, but it didn't matter. Like a gust of wind, she entered the store and hid from his view.

Remy decided to handle it on his own, no need to work John up. "You keep lookin', John-boy. I'm gonna look over d'ere." Engrossed in the shiny movie covers, John barely noticed Remy's departure.

The thief crouched down so his head could not be seen over the shelving. He extended his bow staff and made his move. He pinned the girl against the shelves, knocking a few videos down. He was surprised that it was a mutant he was familiar with, but that didn't change anything. "What do you want, Malice?"

The Goth Witch struggled to hex her captor, but he had her arms pinned down. Her eyes flashed. "I'll show you malice!"

When he realized his mistake, Remy almost let go of Wanda's arms. He tightened his grip, but his voice grew smoother. "Sorry, I d'ought you were someone else. Promise not to hex me if I let go?"

"Never."

Remy hoped that she hadn't gotten the most recent update from Rogue. "I d'ought you an' Rogue were friends."

"That doesn't mean I owe you anything."

"Why are you followin' me? Did Rogue ask you to?" In his heart, he wished she had. She might have lingering feelings after all.

Wanda snorted. "Don't flatter yourself."

"D'en why are you followin' me?"

"And I thought Rogue was exaggerating when she said you thought you were God's gift."

A light bulb went on over the Cajun's head. "You weren't followin' me. You were followin' John."

"No, I wasn't," she hissed, a little too quickly.

"What's up wit' you an' him?"

"Nothing. I'm here renting a video. It's a coincidence that I bumped into you."

"I might have believed dat if you weren't starin' at John de entire briefing."

"His incredibly large head was blocking my view."

"Your view o' his body? 'Cause dat was the only d'ing it could have been blockin' from where you were sittin'."

Wanda avoided Remy's eyes as she tried to think of a comeback. Nothing came. She looked at Remy with pleading eyes. "He doesn't know, does he?"

"No. When he's unconscious, he doesn' tend to notice beautiful women staring at him." Wanda calmed down, but Remy did not let her free. "Are you gonna tell me why you were following him?"

The Witch covered up her embarrassment with hostility. "Why should I?"

Remy smirked. "Maybe I can help you out." Wanda paused, considering his offer. "Couldn' hurt, non?"

She looked him straight on. "I will never underestimate your ability to muddle something up."

"Why would you say dat?"

The answer was obvious. "Uh, Rogue."

"You can't put dat mess all on me."

"You're right. You're both messed up."

"I'm not de one stalking somebody. . . at least not today." Wanda opened her mouth to retort, but she had none. "Now back to da situation at hand. . . "

"Fine." Wanda sighed. _I can't believe how desperate I am, taking advice from one of Father's idoitic stooges. _"If one word of this gets out, I'll hex you into a transformer until every last hair falls out of your head."

"Bald is very chic nowadays."

"You're not helping your cause."

"Right, got it. Very painful death if I open my mouth."

"Not death, but close enough."

"Better hurry up, John's coming," Remy lied.

Wanda craned her neck to see over the shelves and tried to escape from under Remy's bo staff. When the Cajun started chuckling, she knew he had lied. Her eyes narrowed. "If telling you will get you away from me faster, then it might be worth it." She averted his eyes, speaking more toward some invisible man on her shoulder than to Remy's face. "I'm following him, because I actually feel things when he's around. Lately I've been feeling nothing about anyone or anything. But when I ran into him the other day. . . it was like a dam broke, and I felt angry, sad, satisfied, passionate . . .I was alive. At first I thought it was a fluke, but when he was at the house yesterday, it happened again. I'm trying to figure out why. Why him? Why now? And why the hell do I remind him of his ex-girlfriend?"

Remy was taken aback by her last question. "What do you know 'bout his ex-girlfriend?"

She shrugged. "Nothing much. Rogue mentioned that she has amnesia or something, then refused to tell me anything else. When John was at the house he said I reminded him of someone; I assumed it was her."

Remy scrunched his face as he analyzed this new information.

After a time, Wanda added, "Was I right?"

"Hum? Right 'bout what? Oui, de girlfriend d'ing. Oui." Remy went back to swimming around in the information in his head.

Wanda called him back again. "Can you tell me what I want to know?"

Mastermind's revelations about Wanda's condition took forefront in his mind. "Uh, non."

The Witch growled. "What do you mean 'non'? You said you wanted to help me, then you won't tell me what I want to know! No wonder Rogue is always pissed after talking to you. It's infuriating." She kicked the Cajun in the shins. He let go of his bow staff with one hand, releasing Wanda. She promptly hexed him into the rack of candies perpendicular to the aisle. She sent another hex bolt above him: The candies unwrapped and melted on his head.

Wanda ducked when she saw John's head pop up from among the shelves. He wandered over to his chocolate coated friend, and Wanda ducked behind the opposite endcap. It would be much too embarrassing if anyone else knew she was stalking John, especially him.

He laughed. "What happened to you, mate?"

From the floor, Remy grabbed the bottom of John's shirt and wiped the chocolate from his face. "PMS." He glared down the aisle at the endcap he saw Wanda peaking out from. She drew her head back and pulled the tale of her scarlet coat out of sight.

"A potential murder suspect?! Where?" John's eyes darted around the store.

Remy rolled his eyes. He considered telling John what had happened but thought better of it. Especially since the boy had finally decided to leave. If there wasn't anything he could do to get the old Wanda back, why should he get the Aussie's hopes up? Let him start a new life outside of this mutant soap opera. Maybe find a girl whose father isn't a megalomaniac. Or better yet, one without a father at all. One thing was for sure: If Remy could find someway to help the couple, the clock was ticking. He needed expert advice. He needed to talk to Xavier.

Remy stood up and put his arm around John, leading him away from Wanda's hiding place. "Somethin' needs to be done 'bout your obsession wit' Dick Van Dyke." (2)

The PMS in the video store flew from John's thoughts as it was now filled by chimney sweeps and animated animals. "Any guy that can dance with penguins deserves to be idolized! (3) That's it! I know what we're renting." He raced to the family section, pulled out a handful of movies, swung by comedy to pick up a few more, then snagged one more in the action section on his way back to Remy.

The Cajun approved the Dick Van Dyke marathon without hesitation and hurried the Aussie from the video store. He wanted to finish getting things for the party and stop over at Xavier's. On the way back to the vehicle, Remy mentioned the change of plans. "I gotta make a stop at Xavier's 'fore we head back to base."

John looked confused. "I thought you weren't gonna try to make up with Rogue anymore."

"Changed my mind," he lied. No reason to divulge any information that he might have to explain.

"Whipped," the Aussie sang before rambling on another subject as they drove.

* * *

Despite the fact that the glasses secured on his face made everything appear red, the room was painfully bright. Scott reached up to shield his eyes only to find his hands chained to the wall. He was in a containment cell. It took him a minute to remember how he got there. He didn't have much time to reflect before the door slid open. 

The red-headed psychic kneeled down next to him. "Scott, what happened? Why did you attack the professor?"

Despite Jean's comforting tone, the Summers boy felt like he was being interrogated. "I didn't."

"Amara saw you. And Storm and Hank said you were yelling some nonsense about being kidnapped - "

"I was kidnapped."

"You were in the mansion the whole time. You went to your appointments after school, then - "

Scott interrupted, "Then I was kidnapped and brought here. I didn't attack the professor! There was someone else in my body."

Jean's brow furrowed. "Was it Mesmero?"

"No! You didn't remember what happened when Mesmero was controlling you, but I remember some of what happened! I was there, but I could have sworn it was all a dream. Until I saw the professor lying on the floor and Magma started throwing fire at me, I was sure it was. You've got to believe me. It wasn't me attacking the professor. I'd never - "

"I know you wouldn't. But Amara saw you. Then you attacked her, too."

"It wasn't Amara."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know! It was the person who made me blast the professor. They jumped me in the bathroom at school. It was some blonde girl then."

"A shape shifter? There was no one else there but you, Amara, and the professor. I saw Amara get into the elevator after practice. She used her powers against you. A shape shifter can't do that."

"You aren't listening to me! Someone was in me!"

Jean looked at her hands ashamed about what she was about to ask. "Did you take anything today? Something you shouldn't have?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Drugs, Scott. Did you take any drugs today? LSD, E, anything?"

The young man closed up. "Why don't you have Hank run a drug test since you don't believe a word I say anyway?"

"Scott. . ." Jean reached out to comfort him, but Scott scooted away as far as he could. Jean knew any further efforts would be useless. She stood up. "You know we have to keep you here until we figure out what happened." She walked over to the door.

"Is the professor okay?"

"He's stable. We're not sure when he's going to wake up. Soon, hopefully. Then we can get this all sorted out."

"Or you could just trust me."

Jean shook her head sadly. "We can't take the risk."

"I thought we had some sort of bond."

Jean's eyes began to water. "We do - "

"Then let me out."

She turned away. "I'm sorry." The door swished shut behind her.

* * *

The thief had no intention of stopping by the girl's room, but the light in Professor Xavier's office was dark, and she was already outside, sitting on her balcony rail. 

She didn't notice him until he cleared his throat behind her. He was the last person Rogue expected to see on her balcony. "What brings ya here, swamp rat?"

Remy heard the stressed tone in her voice and saw the worry lines on her face. He resisted asking about them. It wasn't his business anymore, if it ever was in the first place. "Need to talk to de professor 'bout Wanda. Been a couple new developments in de case."

Rogue looked back out at the dark sky, cloudless and lacking precipitation for the first time in a long while. Storm had other things on her mind that night. "Ya can' talk ta the professor."

Remy snapped. "Dis is 'bout Wanda and John, not you an' me! I can' believe you wouldn' let me talk to him, 'cause we had a fallin' out! If you won' help me, den I guess I'll have to look around the mansion myself! An' I won' be holdin' back if anyone gives me a hard time!"

Rogue reached out and took a hold of his arm before he disappeared into the mansion. Her voice had a forceful calm to it. "Ya can' talk ta the Professor 'cause he's in a coma. Ah guess ya _could _talk ta him, but he won' answer ya." She let go and turned back to the night.

Remy exhaled his anger. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"When did dis happen?"

"This afternoon. Got back and the mansion was crazy. Scott lost it and blasted him through a wall, then attacked Amara."

"Scott? De one wit' de underwear shoved so far up his - "

"Yes, him."

"Always figured Jeannie would be de one to go postal, bein' a redhead and all."

Rogue shook her head but didn't comment.

It took every ounce of willpower Remy had not to stroll over and put his arms around her, comfort her. After a minute of silence, he decided it was best just to leave the heartbreaker. "Call me when he wakes up."

He was perched on the ledge ready to jump when she called his name. Despite his resolve to leave, he paused to hear what she had to say.

"Remy," she said again, her voice a little hoarse. "Ah've been thinkin'. Thinkin' 'bout what ya said earlier." The Cajun's interest was perked, and he put his feet back down on the balcony. Rogue did likewise and looked him in the eye. "An' Ah think ya're wrong."

That was not the answer Remy cared to hear, so once again he turned to leave. He wouldn't be told what he could and couldn't do and who he could and couldn't love again.

Rogue stepped forward to stop him as she finished her thoughts. "Ah think Ah have too much resolve ta drop everythin' an' run off with someone 'cause Ah can touch 'im." Rogue waited for him to respond.

His voice had barbs. "You want me to jump for joy o' somethin'?"

Rogue gulped and looked at her feet. "No. Ah just . . . just - "

"Spit it out. I left John in de car and forgot to crack a window."

"Ya left John alone?"

"I took his lighters and put de child safety locks on. It'll take him 'bout a half hour to figure 'em out, if he can pay attention dat long."

"So how much time do ya have left?"

"Depends what you have to say."

Rogue took a deep breath. She had recited her speech in her head, but it wasn't exactly going as planned. "Ah want ta believe ya. Ah want ta believe everythin' ya've told meh. 'bout how ya feel and platonic relationships. But trust has never been one o' mah strong suits. Not ta mention that ya aren' the most forecomin' o' people.

"How can Ah really trust ya when ya can't really trust meh? Ya say ya have your reasons fo' not tellin' meh 'bout you and Magneto and Alice, but when ya refuse ta tell meh or ya lie, that makes believin' everythin' that much harder fo' meh."

Rogue threw up her arms and started pacing. "An' Ah don' know what Ah'm doin' here, with you. Ah've never been in a situation like this; Ah've never felt like this o' had ta ask mahself these questions before. Mah life was a given: future cat lady. Or Boo Radley but bitchier. Ya challenge all o' that. An' that's not what Ah was expectin' when ya tried ta blow up mah hand the first time Ah saw ya. (4)

She paused, looked up at Remy, then down at her feet. "Ah guess what Ah'm - " Rogue was interrupted by a distant explosion.

Rogue's voice was solemn. "Ah guess time's up."

"Oui. I should be goin' to pick up John pieces," he said but made no move to leave. "Where does dis leave us?"

"Ah guess it comes down ta Ah can't be with ya until Ah trust ya, an' Ah can' trust ya 'til ya trust meh an' stop keepin' stuff from meh."

Remy nodded. He saw some black smoke billowing toward the sky. He shifted his weight back and forth. He wanted to stay and work things out, but that smoke was sending him an urgent message. "I have to go now. Tomorrow den? Come by, same time?"

Rogue nodded reluctantly. She wanted to talk about it now, but she could stand waiting twenty-four hours.

Remy snatched her hand for a kiss and gave her one piece of information to tide her over. "I hate peas."

Rogue deadpanned. "Wow, Remy. Now that ya've made that startlin' revelilation, Ah feel so much closer ta ya."

"Baby steps, chere." He winked and disappeared onto the mansion grounds. Rogue leaned over the railing for another few minutes before retreating to her warm room.

* * *

(1) Quote from the greatest movie on the planet. If you have to ask me what that movie is, you haven't really been reading my story, have you?  
(2) Dick Van Dyke starred in the medical mystery drama _Diagnosis Murder_.  
(3) Dick Van Dyke was also in Disney's _Mary Poppins_.  
(4) Arthur "Boo" Radley was the recluse in Harper Lee's _To Kill A Mockingbird_ who the kids made up ghost and murder stories about but secretly watched and protected the Finchs.

* * *

**A/N: **I got some suggestions for Malice bodies, but they were all female. Does anyone have any male canon characters they would like to see? 


	9. What's Your Plan?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Nine: What's Your Plan?**

The double doors to Xavier's Institute slammed behind Ray and Sam. They each held a stack of envelopes and magazines under both arms. 

"MAIL!!!" Ray shouted and dumped his pile on the table in the entryway. There was a mad rush from the dorms, some still wearing their uniforms from Danger Room practice, searching for letters from grandmas or the latest fashion magazine.

Sam snatched his letters from his brothers and sisters and joined Ray away from the stampede. "Ah miss Rhane an' all, but it's nice ta have mail without slobbah-smeared ink an' bitemarks." The punk nodded in agreement, but reengrossed himself in his magazine.

After the mob left, Rogue nonchalantly entered the room followed by a freshly-showered Jean. Rogue avoided the mail table and headed straight for the kitchen. She had already gotten her book club mailing for the month, and there was no one who would write her, except perhaps the AWOL Risty, but what was the likelihood of that?

Jean shifted through the leftovers, tossing out the solicitations, glancing at the missing children flyers. She came across a small package for Scott from his brother. Jean decided to take the package down to him after dinner. Maybe it would cheer him up.

Before the Danger Room session, Jean raced down to check on the professor and Scott, hoping everything was solved and back to normal. Unfortunately, there was no change in the Professor, and Scott was still hostile in the containment cell. Not that she blamed him. She could sense that he believed he was telling the truth, but she didn't want to scan his mind any further. What if Mesmero had set a trap?

After shoving the box underneath her arm, she came across three of the same magazine covered in brown paper lying underneath. One was addressed to her. "What's this? Ray?" The New Mutant looked up from the couch where he settled with his own subscription. "You ever heard of _MZ_?"

Ray noted the opaque cover. "Porn?"

Jean glared. "I did not sign up for porn."

"Are you sure? You sign up for something once on the internet, and they never leave you alone."

Jean continued to glare at the punk.

Ray shrugged. "Show me the cover."

Jean ripped off the paper. The cover shown an extremely thin woman with short, stylish black hair peaking out from behind a curtain. In the upper left hand corner was the signature _MZ _and the full title of the magazine _Mutant Zine_.

Ray peered over Jean's shoulder. "You're right. It's not porn. She's hot, though."

Rogue emerged from the kitchen with an apple. The two X-Men inspecting the magazine sparked her curiosity. She peered over their shoulders. "Who checked inta Betty Ford this week?"

Jean moved her hand, and they scanned the cover articles: "Out of the Chromo-Closet: Super Model Jeanne-Marie", "Genosha, Genetic Haven or Clever Segregation?", "Proposed Federal Legislation Impedes Your Right to Life and Liberty", "Ten Ways to Fight Wrongful Imprisonment", "Behind Bars: One Mutant's Struggle Against the Human's System", "Small Victory for Mutant Exclusive Businesses", and "Brave New Evolved World."

"Can you believe this?"

Ray snatched the magazine from Jean's hands. "That hottie's a mutant? No way. Wonder what her powers are?" He flipped through the pages.

Jean snatched the book from his hands. "No, that there is garbage like this going around encouraging mutants to alienate themselves from humans. It's practically a rally for Magneto's supremacy cause. This is not what the mutant community needs right now." She tossed _Mutant Zine_ in the trash. She remembered the other two magazines wrapped in brown paper on the table and threw them in as well. Jean adjusted the package underneath her arm and turned to leave.

Rogue glanced in the basket; her eye caught her own name printed on a discarded magazine. "What do ya think ya're doin'?" She reached down and pulled out the two covered books. "These are mine and Scott's."

"You don't want to read that trash, do you?"

Rogue was in an obstinate mood. "Maybe Ah do. Maybe Ah don'. It's not your decision ta make for meh. Or for Scott."

"Can I check yours out when your done, Rogue?" Ray interjected.

Before Rogue could answer, Jean telekinetically lifted her copy of the magazine out of the trash and chucked it at Ray's chest. Ray took the hint from Jean's hostile look, that he should leave before more things were thrown at him or hit him in the crossfire.

Jean turned to Rogue. Her frustrations the last twenty-four hours left her without energy for a philosophical fight. "Fine. I'm sorry I threw your horrible magazine away. But if you expect me to take that trash to Scott, you've got another thing coming."

"Ah'll take it down. It's no big deal." The goth took a bite of her apple. _Ah'm not the one keepin' mah boyfriend chained up in the basement._

The over-stressed Jean couldn't help overhearing Rogue's thoughts. "You know we can't let him out without knowing what happened! You'd do the same thing if you were in my shoes. What if Mesmero takes control of him again?"

"That was a joke! A private joke to entertain the voices in mah head. 'Sides, he said it wasn' Mesmero."

"Then it's something new, and we should be ten times more cautious! We have to wait until the professor wakes up. Then we'll know what happened and what to do next."

"What if the professor doesn' wake up? Don' get meh wrong, but as resident pessimist, Ah have ta play mah part. Ya gonna keep Scott locked up 'til he's old an' gray?"

Jean's eyes widened. "I - I - I don't know."

"Maybe ya should start thinkin' up a plan B." Rogue started to leave.

Jean called after her, "You obviously thought about it. What's your plan?"

Rogue approached the redhead. "Jean, ya're a telepath. Ah know ya don't like ta poke too far inta people's heads, an' with the professor around, ya didn't really have ta. He could do it for ya. But he's not here now. An' ya are."

Jean shook her head. "No, I can't. I'm not that good at it. Telepathic communication, probing surface thoughts, fine, but what you're talking about involves experience I don't have. I can barely handle Cerebro. It took me days to find Wolverine. I'm not ready. Not to mention with the way things are between Scott and me right now. He'd never give me permission."

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn' he? Even if he hated you with his every breath, Ah think he'd opt fo' ya in his head over life in a bright closet."

Jean considered Rogue's plan, then shook her head. "I can't. I'm not ready."

"A few weeks ago, didn' ya prove the professor wrong 'bout your capabilities?" (1)

Jean didn't reply. The goth shrugged. "Ah guess ya know better than Ah do. Since mah plan won' work, guess ya should start workin' on your own." This time Rogue successfully left the room.

On the way to her room, Rogue passed Kurt and Ray holding a video camera. "What? It's all over?" Ray asked.

"What's all over?"

"Your fight with Jean."

"I wouldn't call that a fight."

Ray surveyed Rogue and the room. "No bruises, no broken vases, I'm disappointed. I even brought Kurt to watch."

"He dragged me down so I could port him out of the path of destruction," Kurt corrected, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Rogue nodded to the camcorder. "An' what's that fo'?"

"Oh, this thing. Purely educational purposes."

"There's nothing pure 'bout your purposes. How much was Bobby going ta pay ya fo' that?"

"We're still in negotiations. I wish I had this baby the night your music store burnt down. You don't see a catfight like that everyday. That shoe action was priceless." (2)

Kurt reappeared between the disgusted goth and the hormonal punk. He held a cordless phone out to Ray. "Time to hold up your side of the bargain."

"No way. You didn't do anything. The fight was over."

"Doesn't matter. Now call Amanda and ask her about a homework assignment, so I can talk to her vithout her parents finding out."

Rogue, not playing a part in this argument, slipped away to the refuge of her room.

* * *

"You're such a baby," Lance accused Todd.

"I'm not a baby, yo. I'm just more in touch with my emotional side. All sensitive and stuff." He hopped over and put his arm around Wanda's waist. "Women like that; don't they, poopsie?"

The Scarlet Witch stepped out of Todd's grasp. "I could care less if you cry during movies. I'm sure you could flood the thing if you tried." Lance and Fred laughed. Wanda decided to dish out her punishment equally. "What are you snickering about, Lance? You were sniffling so loud I thought you were doing lines. And Fred, you can't fool me. I know you didn't spill soda down the front of your shirt. You're all pathetic." She crossed her arms and increased her pace.

"Wanda the megabitch has returned."

Wanda shook her head and walked with greater determination. The boys insisted that she go to the ridiculous movie with them and then complained about her. They've lived with her long enough; they knew what they were getting into.

But did they? Wanda thought she had hidden her emotional dysfunction well until Rogue corrected her. Since "Wanda the megabitch has returned," did that mean she's back to normal? The witch wanted to think so, but she knew it wasn't true. She lashed out at the boys because she was the only one who hadn't felt anything during the movie. It was a bunch of beautiful people running around on screen reciting lines to her. She tried telling herself that it was just a movie, and she didn't feel anything because it was fake, nothing more. Except she couldn't help but wonder that if she had gone to the movie with John, would she have acted differently? Maybe she would have cried too. Or vomited at the cliché lines. Or snuck up to the balcony to drop candy on people's heads.

Shuffling in an alley disrupted her thoughts. She looked down the narrow path as she passed. There was a young boy, no more than fourteen, with finely scaled aqua skin and two fins on the sides of his face pressed up against a brick wall. Five guys at least four years older than him pummeled his stomach until he spat out a gooey blue substance. 

Wanda watched the scene as she watched the movie: unmoved. She was about to turn away and continue walking home, when the Brotherhood boys caught up to her.

Todd was the first to notice something going on. "Hey, man! Those flatscans are beating up a kid! Someone should do something."

Avalanche took the initiative. His eyes rolled back into his head as he knocked the assailants off their feet. The victim slid down the wall, alive but unable to move. As the assailants rose, Blob charged down the alley, knocking two of them thirty feet away with his girth. Toad tackled one of the remaining men to the ground, while Lance started a fist fight with another.

Wanda remained at the street side, watching. She wasn't frightened; she lacked motive. In her mind, she knew what was happening and what she should do, but she felt no compulsion to do so. He was one of their own. She was supposed to stick up for her own kind. For all she felt, she could have still been at the theater.

The fifth man got up and threw Toad against the building. Blob was able to grab one of the two before they got to Lance. Even so, Lance was less than a match for the two remaining men at hand-to-hand fighting.

Lance looked up from the ground, his mouth dripping blood. "Little help?!" he yelled to Wanda.

Wanda snapped out of her observer glaze and raised her hands. The tops of two trash cans rose and spun. With thrust of her hands, Wanda sent the tops ricocheting off the walls of the alley, knocking down Lance's two opponents. Blob picked them up and tossed them in the pile he made of the other three. Toad limped over and secured them with his hardening spit. 

As Todd and Fred assisted the beaten mutant, Lance staggered over to Wanda. He spit blood on the sidewalk. "What the hell is your problem?!"

Wanda glanced at the victim, then back a Lance. Her face lacked expression. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? A mutant was being beaten to death, and you sit back and twiddle your thumbs! We could have taken them all out without a scratch, but you just stood there! Now Todd's limping, and I look like a hockey player! You were supposed to take care of the last one!"

Wanda's eyes narrowed. "I didn't get the memo. Did you use the new cover sheet?" (3)

Lance didn't find the joke funny. "We needed you to back us up!"

"I helped when you asked."

"That was too late. You should have been there at the start. I didn't realize you had to be ordered to protect your own kind. You never used to -"

Wanda pulled her hair in frustration. "I used to do a lot of things, but I don't now! I don't know why! I used to feel things! I used to get angry; I used to get scared; I used to smile - rarely, but I did! And now I don't! I don't understand! Nothing's changed, but everything has! I don't know what's happening to me!" She ran ahead of the boys, back to the place they called home.

* * *

A paperback novel slammed shut and hit the wall across the room. Rogue swiped the phone off Kitty's empty bed and dialed a number.

"Ya better put meh straight ta voice mail after that book ya lent meh! Ya call that an endin'? Ah call that monkeys tryin' ta write _Hamlet_! Ya owe meh fo' wastin' mah time!" She punched the disconnect button and threw the phone back on Kitty's bed. 

Friday nights at the mansion were one of the few times the mansion was quiet. Instead of screaming down the halls, the majority of the students were screaming at the Bayville home game. Rogue, the fountain of pep that she was, opted to stay at the mansion. She volunteered to look after Professor X and Scott, but Jean insisted that she didn't need to be relieved. 

So she sat alone in her room. Rogue considered going to the rec room, but the television lacked allure. Besides, Remy would be by soon. She considered calling Wanda but didn't want to be bombarded by more John questions. She rolled off her bed, heading to her bookshelf. She had already read each one at least twice, and nothing jumped out at her for another reread. She glanced at Kitty's stack of books; the titles bored her. 

Before heading back to her bed, she switched her current CD with Wanda's Dresden Dolls. Her homework called out to her, but she wasn't that desperate. She kicked her bookbag. It made a strange noise as it skidded across the floor. Curious, she picked it up and found her copy of the _MZ _magazine Jean was making a fuss about earlier. She had toss it there after delivering Scott's. Rogue shrugged, pulled off the wrapping, and flopped down on her bed.

The featured articles were mildly entertaining, but what really stuck her eye was a small one page article about gene therapy on mutants. There was a brief bio on the head M.D., some genetic jargon she didn't understand, and, most interesting, testimony from a few mutants. One guy's body was crystalline, and he kept breaking pieces off himself. After treatment he was able to reconstruct himself through some something called an amorphous solid state. Even the model on the front cover was quoted. She couldn't go in the same room as her twin brother without blinding everyone in a great flash of white light before the treatment. Another guy was able to gain total control over his powers after the therapy by activating certain gene sequences and removing others.

Control over his powers. Rogue marveled at the idea. Years at Xavier's couldn't give her control. _If this geneticist could help these people, Ah wonder if he could help meh? _

A soft knock at her balcony doors drew Rogue out of her daydream of a slightly more regular life. She quickly discarded the magazine, and drew back the curtains with a small smile on her face.

Remy gasped as she opened the door for him. "You mean I get to come in? Don' d'ink you've ever invited me in. And what's dat?" He pointed at Rogue's face. 

Rogue turned to see herself in Kitty's dresser mirror as Remy continued. "Is dat a smile? Could you be happy to see me?"

"Don' let your imagination run wild, Cajun. It's Friday an' Ah've had a better than average day. That's all. An' Ah only invited ya in 'cause it's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey out there."

"Good d'ing I'm not a monkey."

Rogue moved her pillow and sat indian style at the head of her bed, resting her back against the headboard. Remy smirked and moved in to sit next to her. 

Rogue playfully kicked him toward the foot of her bed. "Dream on, swamp rat."

"Every night, chere." The Cajun settled at the foot of her bed. Something underneath him started to quack. He reached down and pulled up a yellow duck. "Qu'est-ce que c'est ?" (4)

"Birthday gift from Jamie. The kid's cute, Ah can' get rid o' it."

"Sounds like I have some competition."

"Nope, the race is already over, sugah. You didn' stand a chance against his dimples."

"Cradle robber."

"It's easier ta train them when they're young."

The conversation came to a halt. Rogue waited for Remy to start telling her what he conveniently left out of his life, and Remy was procrastinating. 

"Sure is quiet. Did you lock everyone up so we could be alone?"

"Scott's the only one locked up. Everyone's - "

The door to Rogue's room was kicked in. A jewelry box fell off Kitty's dresser and shattered. Logan marched over the broken pieces.

He pointed to the Cajun. "What are you doin' here, Gumbo?"

Rogue jumped off her bed and stood between them. "Ah invited him. He's mah friend, Logan."

"You know the rules about boys in your room, Stripes."

"This is crazy. Kurt's in here all the time, an' you've never had a problem with that!"

"I know the elf. If he's stayin', then you need to go downstairs."

"Fine!" Rogue grabbed Remy by the sleeve of his coat and dragged him down to the rec room. Logan followed them and stood in the corner of the room near the door.

Rogue looked over the back of the couch at her teacher. "Are ya gonna stand there all night?"

"Only if he's stayin' all night."

Remy was uncomfortable with the growing lack of privacy. He wasn't expecting to literally spill his guts in front of her. "Those frozen brass monkey balls are soundin' better every minute."

"Ah don' need a chaperone." Rogue stared at the overprotective man.

After a two minute long staring contest, Logan stood down. "I'll be outside then. Don't get any ideas, bub. It'll only take me a half a second longer to slit your throat."

The goth turned back to her guest. "Sorry, Ah didn' think he'd be like this. Since what happened yesterday, he's been a little more on edge."

Remy stood up. "Maybe we should do dis some other time."

Rogue grabbed his sleeve again. She locked him in her gaze. "No, stay. He won't bother us now. Unless ya start blowin' up the place."

The Cajun gave in and sat back down. "Okay, I'll stay." He took out a deck of cards and started shuffling, but not speaking.

Rogue broke the uncomfortable silence. "So, what do we do now?"

Remy shrugged. "'Dress in drag and do the hula?'" (5) He was all set to tell her everything, but he clammed up. Where do you start with a past like his?

"Mah grass skirt is upstairs. 'Sides, Ah've already seen you in drag, and it's not all that pretty." (6) Rogue leaned forward. "Are you serious 'bout this, Remy? Cause if ya aren' we should stop wastin' each other's time."

He looked up from his deck. "No, I'm serious. I don' know where to start, is all."

"How 'bout why ya really joined up with Magneto?"

"I knew you liked de big guns." Remy took a deep breath and exhaled. "Sure you don't want to hear more 'bout peas?"

Rogue crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe some other time ya can tell meh 'bout your tramatic experience with peas."

"It's a really good story. There's a goat and everything."

"A goat?"

Remy nodded, then hung his head and revealed the truth. "Non, not really. 'All right, get set for the story of my life.'"

Not missing a beat, Rogue retorted. "'Fiction or non-fiction?'" (7)

Remy sent an angry glare her way. This wasn't easy for him. Couldn't she see that? She shouldn't be giving him such a hard time. The damaged young man took another deep breath and went off running. "Magneto didn' just find me on de streets. 'fore Magneto, Remy was workin' for dis guy. Real scum o' de earth. D'inks he's all virtuous while he does d'ese horrible d'ings. Or makes others do 'em for 'im. That's where I came in. . . " He trailed off. Getting into what he actually did for Essex was a little heavier that he wanted to get into that night.

"I first met Magneto when he bought some equipment from my boss. I delivered it. D'en 'bout six months later, I saw him again in New York City. He offered me a job and promised to take care of my old boss. Make sure he didn' come after me or my family again. I accepted and haven't looked back. Dat was almost a year ago."

Rogue debated on what questions to ask. She had so many. "Ya just happened ta bump inta each other in New York?"

Remy sighed. "Nope. Turns out you and Magneto weren' de only ones interested in Big Bird last Christmas. My boss sent me out after him too. I saw de whole fight. You blew me away, goin' after Mags like dat. He spotted me lurkin' around after he gave up. D'ought I'd make a good second choice."

"Ya saw meh in New York? Ya knew who Ah was before?"

"We studied all de X-Men 'fore de first fight. But I did pay extra attention to your file."

Rogue could not believe what she was hearing. "Ya sought meh out on purpose that day!"

"Oui. An' I have ta say you look much better up close."

She punched him in the arm. "Ya lowlife crawfish. There are other ways ta get a girl's attention than tryin' ta blow off her hand!"

Remy wasn't phased. In fact, he smirked. "Worked, didn' it?"

She leaned back on the sofa and shook her head. "Ah should let Logan have at ya."

"No, dat's no good. Hasn' anyone ever told you dat if ya want somethin' done right, ya gotta do it yourself?"

"Ya'd enjoy that too much."

Their conversation came to another lull. Rogue decided to ask another question she had thought of earlier. "When ya said Magneto was gonna make sure your old boss wouldn' come after ya o' your family _again_, what did ya mean? Did somethin' happen ta them before?"

Remy hunched forward and vigorously shuffled his deck of cards. "Leavin' wit' Magneto wasn' de first time Remy tried ta leave. D'ings did not go so well de first time. But I don' wanna talk 'bout dat."

Part of Rogue wanted to push him into opening up, but something in his tone made her swallow her words. _Baby steps_, she kept reminding herself. She never imagined such a dark life for the man sitting on the other end of the couch.

He was so focused on his cards, he didn't even seem to notice that neither of them had said anything for the last minute. Rogue, despite her growing curiosity and thrist for more information, agreed that he had spilled enough for one day. "That's okay. Has Peter talked to ya 'bout tomorrow?"

Remy straightened up as if a weight had be lifted. "Oui. Your roommate is une dame folle." (8)

"Ya goin'?"

Remy's head shot up in surprise. "You mean you don' want to?"

"Hangin' out with Kitty and Peter while they make eyes at each other, a pouting Amara and John the time bomb doesn' sound like that great o' a time."

"Are you kiddin'? It'll be great. Like living a soap opera. Peter and I made bets on who would slap John first: Kitty or Amara."

"How come I'm not in there?"

Remy shrugged. "Neh, there was only two o' us. Plus you'll be too busy tryin' to keep me in line."

"Ah still haven' said Ah was goin'."

"Only a formality."

"That so?"

They continued to argue playfully until the rest of the residents came home disheartened from yet another loss of the Bayville High football team. At that point Remy left after making Rogue promise to come along on the date the next evening. 

"Don' forget to 'pick out somethin' black and sexy and prepare to do some funky poachin'.'" (9)

"Ah'll be sure ta bring mah staple gun."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I can' believe you still have dat d'ing. De place burns to the ground, and you still have de staple gun." (10)

The goth smiled proudly. "Ah'll be retired on a tropical beach, an' Ah'll still have mah staple gun handy." (11)

Remy swept up Rogue's gloved hand and kissed it while Logan growled from behind a column on the front porch. "Adieu, 'til tomorrow. Good bye, Wolverine. No Cajun jambalaya tonight!"

* * *

The door to the Brotherhood house slammed and three sets of feet stomped in. 

Pietro zipped in before any of the boys could inhale the stale air. "Well, if it isn't Larry, Moe, and Shirly. What took you guys so long? I have trainings planned, and there's a TV to fix."

Lance ignored him. "Did Wanda come back here?"

"Yeah, she upstairs brooding. Didn't even say 'hi' to her only brother as she ran by. She's - "

Pietro couldn't finish his sentence when Lance's fist unexpectedly dislocated his jaw. Pietro stumbled backward and popped his bone back in.

"What the hell was that for? If it's that rumor about me and Kitty, that's a complete lie. I wouldn't touch her if she was - "

Lance rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't touch Kitty? She'd phase your tongue out of your mouth if she had to listen to you for more than five minutes. This is about Wanda."

Pietro scrunched up his handsome face. "That's disgusting. She's my sister!"

"How the hell do you sleep at night knowing what you did do her?"

"What I did to her? That is the most revolting thing I've ever been accused of doing. Are you trying to get on the 'Jerry Springer Show'?"

"You screwed up her head - " Lance was silenced by Pietro's hand over his mouth.

Pietro whispered harshly, "I said she was upstairs, not in Timbuktu! She'll hear you! I told you what crazy dingo-boy said. Can't have her asking questions. I don't want to run her to a hospital. Have you seen how much weight she's put on?"

The look in Lance's eye told him that he would not stand down. The son of Magneto sighed and zipped them both outside.

When the silver-haired mutant removed his hand, Lance growled. "You're such an idiot! This is no way for us to live and definitely not for her. How long do you think we can walk on eggshells without letting something slip?"

"Me, personally? I can go on forever - "

"You live with me, Toad, and Blob. None of us are the perfect picture sneak you are."

"Of course, but as long as I'm around, I can cover-up. I do have a silver tongue," Pietro boasted.

"I don't care about you! Wanda's up there not knowing which way is up, and you want to keep it that way. That's sick."

The speed demon let his concern show through. "What do you mean 'not knowing which way is up'? Did she get dizzy or have a spell? What did you do? I knew I should have tagged along. Leave it to the three amigos to mess things up."

"WE didn't do anything. She freaked out on the way home. Rambling on about how she can't feel anything and how she knows she's different but can't remember why or how. She knows something went down. It's only a matter of time before she figures out what."

Pietro's eyes narrowed. "You better not go around running your mouth. I know it's been bored, not having an X-Man to suck face with, but you're treading on dangerous ground, Boulder-Boy."

"What? Do you think I want to put her in a coma? I care about her more than you do."

"Sure you do."

"Hey, I'm not on the in with Magneto."

"Do you think I had a say in what happened?"

"I think you could have opened your mouth if you wanted to, but you were too busy looking for a pat on the head from daddy."

"He's the one that decides everything! Who goes where and does what. Who's in charge. I'm just trying to keep my space in the pecking order."

"What's your space worth if you don't use it to do anything?"

Lance's last comment hit Pietro. Was he just as worthless as the other Brotherhood boys if he didn't tell his father what he thought and stand up for his nut job sister?

Pietro snorted to cover up his self-conflict. "What do you know anyway? You're just some loser whose own parents didn't want! I have better things to do." Pietro ran off before Lance had a chance to throw in some really nasty words.

The sexy speed demon stopped when he got to the pay phone at Baker and Holmes. He had left his cell phone in Cagney's car the night before. Or was it Lacey? No, he definitely had it when he went out with Lacey, but that was beside the point. He had another problem at hand. The bum who was taking a nap on one of the few remaining pay phones in Bayville. 

Pietro searched his pockets and pulled out a old but unused kleenex. He approached the dirty man cautiously. He made a face as he used the kleenex to protect his hand trying to pry the man from the precious phone. The man fell down, but was either too tired or drugged to notice his new position. 

The prissy mutant looked at the underside of the once white tissue. It was now a brown-green color. He made another disgusted face as he dropped it too the ground. "Eww..."

After swabbing down the phone with another tissue he found, Pietro dialed a local number. He hesitated at the last button, but Lance's words still rung in his mind, giving him a new-found determination.

"Hello, Dad?" Pietro asked when someone picked up.

His father's deep voice boomed from the receiver. "Yes, who did you think it'd be?"

"You, uh. Yeah, you," he stammered.

Quickly growing tired of the incoherent two letter words coming from his son, Magneto interrupted him. "Is there a point to this call?"

"Yes," the silver-haired mutant gulped. "It's about Wanda."

Magneto filled Pietro's pause. "Yes. I'm listening."

"I think there's something wrong with her." _There, finally, I got it out!_

Magneto was annoyed that his son could not handle this himself. "Take her to the doctor then. Didn't I send over health insurance cards last week?"

Pietro's rejoicing ended and his nervousness returned after he heard his father's response. "You did. That's not what I mean." He paused again to choose his next sentence carefully.

Magneto was impatient that night. "Then use those words the public schools taught you."

The jab gave Pietro the juice to super speed talk. "She's acting all funny and says she doesn't have any feelings since Mt. Ararose and has headaches all the time and she might go into a coma or insane and I mean really insane this time and her eyes are dead and there's something wrong with her head from the memory thing."

"What?" Magneto exclaimed. Pietro began again. "No, I didn't mean repeat it. I've been around long enough to understand you. I didn't realize you were having a problem keeping Wanda safe."

The twin became defensive. "It's nothing I did! It's something your monkey-boy didn't do! He's the one that screwed up royally.

"I did everything you told me to do. I took out all her pictures and lighters and anything of Pyro's she had. I even did the stuff I didn't want to do, like go through her underwear drawer to get her hate letters to you! There was no way I was letting Toad do it. He'd probably eat them!

"There's something else going on in her head! I'm telling you, he didn't do it right."

His father was silent on the other end. After a minute, he spoke. "Are you sure?"

"YES!"

"Well, if that is the case, then I'll have to set up another session for Wanda with Mastermind. It will be much easier this time, no need to manipulate underlings or use knock out gas. Tell Wanda that Mastermind will be over to the house tomorrow afternoon to set up a psi-block or something like that. He'll scan her mind for anything not functioning properly and fix it."

Pietro still wasn't happy with the situation. With his victory still fresh, he ventured to question his father once more. "Can't you get someone else?"

"Passing a message from me to your sister is too much work for you? I didn't realize."

"No, I mean, isn't there someone else that could do the mind scan fake/psi-block thing."

"No. You know Mastermind is the only telepath I have in my employ. And if there really is something wrong, he would know best how to go about fixing it since he altered her memories in the first place."

His father's snippy attitude put Pietro back to loyal servant mode. "Sorry, Father. Of course, you would know best."

"Don't forget to tell Wanda. Mastermind has other things to do. I don't want his time to be wasted because she went out to get her hair done."

Pietro almost laughed out loud at the imagery of his sister at a salon. He coughed to cover it up. "Of course, Father. I won't forget. You can count on me."

"Is there anything else you wish to speak with me about?" Magneto asked out of courtesy.

"No, no. That's it. Thanks, Dad. For believing me. I wasn't sure - "

"Believe you? I'm not sure if your worries are valid, but it sounds like something that needs to be checked out. I don't want something to jeopardize the upcoming mission."

"Of course. Thanks. Good bye." Pietro hung up before his father could tear down his ego anymore.

* * *

She stared unblinking at the door to his new home until the fluorescent lights burned her eyes. He had been in there over twenty-four hours, bitter and angry. She wondered if he slept at all. She couldn't tell with his visor on and the shoddy black and white security feed. She thought he was asleep once and went in to take his untouched dinner away, but was met with sharp, cold comments.

It killed her not to be able to trust her best friend's feelings and his word, but the safety of the Newbies and the other X-Men was more important. She tried telling herself that he would do the same in her shoes, but she also knew that he would have found a way to prove her innocence by now. Or at least have a plan. She didn't have anything. She went over the security feed from the underground levels with Logan, but they showed nothing to support or disprove his memories. There were some strange, ghostly images on the videos, but with the amount of fighting going on, the interference wasn't surprising.

Her ideas dead-ended. She had to think outside of the box. It was time to take a chance. It was time to start wearing the big girl shoes.

Jean inhaled deeply and stepped forward. Her fingers hovered over the lock pad. She exhaled and punched in the first three numbers. Upon taking her next breath, she recalled her power surge: uncontrolled, unchecked, and destructive. She knew she had the power, but her doubts about her control remained.

"I'm sorry," Jean spoke to the cool metal before turning on her heel. She sprinted back to her room and wet her pillow with tears before falling asleep.

* * *

(1) In _Blind Alley_, Professor Xavier doubted that Jean's dreams of Scott in trouble had any real-life relevance because even his telepathic abilities couldn't detect Scott so far away without technological assistance.   
(2) See Nine to Five, Chapters 19 and 20 for the Ania and Ashley fight.  
(3) For more jokes about memos and staplers watch _Office Space_.   
(4) According to babelfish, this is "what is this?" in French.   
(5) From Disney's _Lion King_.   
(6) Rogue saw Remy in drag before he went to the Rocky Horror Picture Show in Nine to Five: Chapter 13 - Something Like Rex Manning Day.  
(7) Quote from _Charade_. Only the best Audrey Hepburn movie ever. Required viewing. And don't say you saw _The Truth About Charlie_ and that was close enough. That movie was worst than craptastic. Flip the DVD over and watch the real thing.  
(8) More babelfish: "One crazy lady."  
(9) Those words came from the mouth of one Fox Mulder of _The X-Files_ episode, "Memento Mori".  
(10) Rogue shot Remy with a staple gun in Nine to Five: Chapter 18 - I'm a Dead Cat Too.  
(11) Two _Office Space_ references in one chapter? Weird. You'd think I'd watched it recently. 


	10. Some Twin You Are!

A/N: This chapter was freakishly long so I chopped it up. And for you Romy fans, be forewarned: You won't be seeing any. Wait until I am safely behind this riot shield before you start tossing stuff at me. No explosives, please.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's. Except Ania, inspired by ishandahalf.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Ten: Some Twin You Are!**

Wanda Maximoff sighed when her CD ended, rolled off her bed and walked to her player. She looked through her entire collection before deciding she'd rather listen to the same CD again. For some reason, she always got a headache when she listened to her autographed Kittie CD, but she couldn't stop herself from pressing play again. (1)

Instead of settling back on her bed, Wanda left her room.

Wanda jumped as her brother popped up in front of her. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

She brushed past him. "Lunch with the President."

Pietro again blocked his sister's way. "You better not be leaving the house. Our father said to make sure you'd be here when Mastermind arrived. If you're not, my ass is on the line, too."

The witch shoved her brother into a door frame. "I've been here all day. Where the hell is he?"

Pietro shrugged. "Grooming himself? I'm not his keeper."

"No, apparently you're mine." He got in her way a third time. "Don't I have clearance to go to the bathroom? If not, I'll just drop trou in your room. Makes no difference to me."

Wanda took only one step toward Pietro's room before he switched course. "No, use the bathroom, but be quick about it." She slammed the door on his last line. "And don't even think about sneaking out the window!"

To be honest, she hadn't thought about it until he said it. She slipped two aspirin onto her tongue and swallowed; she didn't need anything to wash them down anymore. She sat on the toilet, figuring she might as well do her business while she was there.

The day had been wasted, sitting around in her room waiting for her father's pet telepath to get there. Not that she had any plans, but she could definitely come up with something better to do than wait around for a guy she never wanted to see. Mastermind gave her the creeps. Wanda met him only once before, although she couldn't quite place where. She knew one thing for sure: She didn't want to see him again, much less have him poke around in her head.

The night before, she was almost pleasantly asleep when Pietro barged into her room to tell her she had to meet with the odd man. Once she awakened fully, she argued with her brother until he fell out of her second story window. He survived and camped out in the hallway outside her bedroom. The witch must have fallen asleep at some point, but she didn't feel like it. Every time she closed her eyes she was haunted by the glowing ones of the monkey-man.

Wanda tried to tell herself that her father wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. That was why he wanted Mastermind to put the psi-block on. It would protect her. Mastermind worked for her father; he trusted Mastermind. There was no way her father would let Mastermind near her if he posed any danger. Despite all of her reasoning, the Scarlet Witch couldn't shake her dread.

Earlier, she flipped though one of her mentor Agatha Harkness's spell books and considered casting one to keep the telepath away. But it had been too long since she had practiced such complicated witchcraft outside of that she used in conjunction with her powers. She hadn't been to a coven meeting in months, or moons, as they measured the time. She had been preoccupied with something else, although she couldn't remember what kept her away.

Pietro's nagging woke her from her trance. "What's the hold-up? Did you fall in? You better still be in there. If you don't say anything, I'm coming in. I don't care what femininy things you're shoving where." He followed through with his threat, only to be wrapped in cheap toilet paper and thrown in the bathtub.

The other boys were playing cards when she appeared downstairs. "Finally got past Pietro the Whiny Warden?" Lance asked as he laid down a card.

"I'm leaving. I'm sick of being trapped in this house."

Lance looked up from his hand. Pietro had mentioned the game plan to him at breakfast. "You sure that's a good idea?"

Wanda narrowed her eyes. "Don't you start."

Lance tried a passive approach. "I'm just saying this psi-block thing sounded pretty important. You might not want to blow it off."

"You want one? Mastermind didn't seem all that sharp. Borrow some of my clothes. I'll bet he'll never know the difference. I'm sure my brother can help you with your make-up."

Fred and Todd pointed and laughed at Lance. "Funny," the Chicago orphan declared. "But remember, you're the one who'll have to deal with Magneto if Mastermind comes and you're not here."

"What's he going to do? Ground me? He needs me for the mission next week." Then she added, "And he needs to get more punctual help." Wanda slammed the door. The unkempt hedge shook when she marched by.

She didn't have a destination in mind, so she just walked toward town. The houses got closer together, then the small shops started. They already had Christmas decorations in the windows. There were tinsel and lights and happy, smiling people. The gleeful atmosphere reminded Wanda about the feelings she was lacking. Her steps became less confident.

_What's wrong with me? _She hugged herself but found no comfort. She paused at the ruins of a building. There was a sign standing in the ashes announcing that a new, bigger and better Starmucks was going to be built to replace the old one.

Wanda dug her hand in her jacket pocket. She had a few bucks, enough for a cup of coffee. Maybe a hot drink would make her feel better.

She surveyed the area, trying to figure out where in town she had ended up. There was a coffee place nearby that she and Rogue liked; it was only a matter of finding it. She knew were it was, but she couldn't figure out how to get there from the old Starmucks. The harder she tried to remember, the more her head would hurt. Finally she gave up.

Defeated, she started walking back to the Brotherhood house. Suddenly she remembered a spell she had seen in in Agatha's book. It was a locator spell, and it was fairly simple. It helped her find her lost earring once.

After making a kid cry stealing his sidewalk chalk, Wanda drew some symbols on the ground. She closed her eyes and meditated. Once her mind was clear, she recited the words. When she opened her eyes, a small ball of blue light appeared before her eyes. It quickly left the alley and turned down the street. The Scarlet Witch ran to keep up with it.

She rounded another corner and stopped. The light was no where to be seen. Wanda sighed and fell against the building to regain her breath. Next to her a door to a shop opened, a releasing a distinct and fragrant odor into the city.

Wanda stood up and walked toward the street. She looked at the large sign above the store entrance: Izzy 39.

The Scarlet Witch smiled and entered the coffee shop. The shop was fairly busy; there was a short line for her to order. Wanda gazed at the desserts in the glass cooler, wishing she had enough money for a brownie as well.

Relishing in the fact her spell had worked and she wasn't currently at the Brotherhood house, Wanda took a deep breath, letting the smells fill her every pore. This coffee wasn't like the cheap crap they drank at the boarding house. It was sweeter, familiar, and fun. It was nutty and mixed with the smell of smoke. And it was giving her a headache.

She took a step forward in line as she massaged her temple. Why did everything that makes her feel better end up causing her pain? What was it about this smell that made her feel this way, and why didn't she carry a bottle of aspirin in her jacket?

Her eyes focused on the couch near the front window. There were two people sitting in deep conversation. Wanda had a feeling of deja vu. She heard her own voice in her head: "How would you rate me?" "Do you get along well with your family?" "Could you be more vague?" "Is this why you freaked out. . ." "I'm hungry." "I just want a nibble." The nearest lamps flickered.(2)

Wanda shook her head to clear it. She moved up one more spot in line. There was only one short customer between her and the cashier.

"Wanda!" the coffee girl exclaimed.

The witch looked up and saw a face she didn't recognize. "What?"

The coffee girl moved behind some machines to fill the short man's order but continued to speak to the mutant. "How are you? I haven't seen you since the day Vinyl Vintage burned down. How's John?"

Wanda was too busy trying to quell the pounding in her skull to figure out what the girl was talking about. "Who?"

"John, silly. The cutie-pie that wears electric blue eye shadow. Don't tell me you guys had a fight. That's no good. Geez, Wanda, what's wrong?" She finally noticed the pain on the witch's face.

"I have a headache, that's all." Wanda regained her composure for a second and looked up. "Who are you and what are you talking about?"

"It's me, Ania. Sly's girlfriend. I've been working here since I lost my waitressing job at Steak and Shake. But no hard feelings. It's no Second Cup, but I like here."

Wanda remembered Sly. He worked with Rogue at Vinyl Vintage. But she wasn't there the day it burned down, was she? But if she wasn't there, where had she been? Why didn't she remember? "You must have me confused with someone else."

Ania looked at her skeptically as she handed the short man his coffee. If there was one thing Ania remembered, it was a face. And, in most cases, the name that went with it. "No. You're Wanda, friend of Rogue, master of sweeping brooms and breaker of windows."

"Huh?" _Brooms? What the hell?_ "I'm not going to argue with you. I just want That Thing That Guy Gets." The smell was really getting to Wanda now. She tried to attribute it to the cigarette smoke wafting from the balcony, but she wasn't very convincing. Her vision would focus then blur as the pounding in her head got louder.

"Sure." Ania dropped the conversation for a moment as she filled her order. She told the witch the cost, and Wanda stopped rubbing her head to flip a few dollars on the counter. A small piece of crumpled typing paper flew out with the currency.

After taking the money, Ania held the paper out for Wanda. "Not that I'm ungrateful, but I have a feeling your grocery list might do you more good than me."

Wanda barely heard her over the pounding in her head. She reached out with a shaking hand to grab the paper. Curious, she smoothed it.

He's lying, please believe me. - John

_What is this? Who's lying? And when did St. John write me any notes? Or is this some other John? But it looks like his handwriting. . . How the hell do I know what his handwriting looks like? _

The cappachino machine started spitting out liquid. Ania hit it with a spoon; it stopped eventually.

"Weird," she mumbled. Then Ania smiled and held out Wanda's coffee. "Tell St. John 'hi' for me, once you're talking to him again. And make Rogue stop in sometime soon, eh? I want to hear about her latest mystery gifts from Remy."

The names flew in Wanda's ears. She knew those people, but - urg! That smell - _What is going on?! _And what made this crazy girl think that she was John's girlfriend? She took one step away from the counter. She was a little dizzy, so she stopped.

Still holding Wanda's coffee in one hand while repeatedly pushing in the cash register drawer with the other, Ania said, "Don't you want your coffee? You don't look too good. Maybe you should sit - "

The coffee girl didn't get to finish her sentence. The power flickered one and off, and the Scarlet Witch collapsed.

Ania leaned over the counter. "Oh, no. Not again."

* * *

There was a mountain of white paper in the center of his bedroom. With the cordless phone in hand, Pietro worked up the courage to call his father to tell him Wanda had left. He decided to leave out the fact it took him almost an hour to get untied. He couldn't figure out why it was so hard. Once he wiggled into his room, the toilet paper practically fell off him. 

Seconds away from pressing the talk button, the phone in Pietro's hand rang. He jumped and dropped it. In a flash, he recovered his senses and snatched the phone from the floor.

He didn't recognize the number on the caller id. "Uh, hello?"

"Hello . .. . um. . . .is this where Wanda Maximoff lives?"

"She's not here right now. Is there something her gorgeous brother can help - "

"I know she's not there. She's here. Well, outside. See, she kind of collapsed, eh - "

"What happened? What did you do to her? What did you say to her? It was that no-good, obsessive, firefly, wasn't it? Where is she?"

The coffee girl picked the last question to answer, since it was the only one she could fully comprehend at that speed. "Izzy 39, on Front Street. She came in for some coffee . . ." Ania continued until she heard the phone beeping, then a dial tone. She brought the phone from her face and conversed with the appliance. "I can't believe it. That rude assnut hung up on me! I hope something very slimy and evil crawls up from the depths of despair to smoosh his pea-sized brain. No cookies for him!"

"I wouldn't want cookies from you anyway. Now where's my sister?"

Ania looked from the phone to the silver-haired teen with exactly the same arrogant voice. Behind him stood a scraggly man with sticks in his hair. The Canadian pointed to Pietro. "Wasn't I just talking on the phone with you?"

"Look, I don't have the time or the want to explain the workings of the world to you, so if you would point me into the direction of my comatose sister, I'd appreciate it. Not so much that I'd grant you the pleasure of my company, because, frankly, you have too many holes in your face, but I might show you one of my award winning smiles."

Ania managed to hold down her lunch as she pointed the way. "She's out in the ambulance on the side street."

"Thanks, babe." Pietro winked and zipped away. The scraggly man vanished as well.

After Pietro called his father to tell him where he was, he lectured his companion as he tried to get the attention of a paramedic. "This wouldn't have happened if you had been on time! Hell, you could have done the job right in the first place, then we really wouldn't be here."

"I told you: I was there before she left. I couldn't get into the house. I don't know why," snapped Mastermind.

Pietro counted off on his fingers. "I heard you the first time: stupid Acolytes, flat tire, hit by a meteorite, shocked by the doorbell, molested by shrubbery, left the oven on, dog ate your homework - "

"I wasn't kidding, you despicable little snot."

Pietro smiled and shook his head. "I wouldn't insult me if I was you."

"What? Are you going to tell Daddy?"

"I might. It would be a shame for you to have to share a bathroom with Sabertooth. Or maybe you would like to cook for all the Acolytes for the rest of the year."

Mastermind shut up. He knew better than to cross Magneto, and this kid's threat wasn't empty. Pietro wasn't as good as his father at manipulating people, but he was getting there. Pietro had the connections and the lies to make his life more miserable then it currently was.

After talking the ear off the paramedic, Pietro was allowed to jump in the back of the ambulance. The truck bobbed as he got in.

"And you tell everyone that I've put on weight."

"Wanda?!" Pietro exclaimed and hugged his sister, who was propped up on one arm and held a bag of ice to the back of her head.

"Ooph." She pushed the speed demon back and squinted at him. "Who the hell are you?"

Pietro paled. "Don't you remember me?"

"You look and sound like my annoying twin brother, but you're a horrible actor. Didn't they teach you to do research in shape-shifting school?"

"But it is me!" he protested.

Wanda closed her eyes and laid back down. "Tell it to someone whose head doesn't explode every time you shout."

"I'm serious, Wanda," he whispered urgently. Pietro sat down next to her.

She lifted her free arm and waved her wrist. A blue glow surrounded her hand. "Leave my ambulance before I made some of these sharp, pointy things poke you."

"I can't believe you don't think it's me! I thought we were supposed to have some sort of womb bond. Some twin you are! Can't even tell a shape-shifter from the real thing. There is only ONE Quicksilver."

"My brother does not hug me."

Pietro slouched and crossed his arms. "He does if he thought you were going to be a vegetable for the rest of your life."

"I fainted in a coffee shop. How did you get vegetable out of that?"

"You think I actually pay attention when ugly people talk to me? Maybe you're not really my sister," he accused.

"Now I believe you. No one can pretend to be that conceited."

"You always were slower than dial-up."

A cough at the open ambulance doors alerted Pietro to another presence. "Dad's here. I'm going to go talk to him. I'll be back."

Once outside of the vehicle, Pietro followed his plain-clothed and bucketless father out of his sister's earshot. "What exactly went on here today, Pietro?"

Pietro pointed to Jason. "Mastermush over there never showed up. Wanda got pissed and left. Then she came here and fainted. I told you something was wrong with her."

"Didn't I tell you to make sure Wanda didn't leave the house?"

"Yes, but - "

Magneto's voice was low and forceful. "No buts. Wanda was not to leave until Mastermind scanned her mind. It was your responsibility to keep an eye on her. After you expressed your concern yesterday, I'm surprised you'd let her out into the very elements you feared would damage her."

With everything that had happened that day, Pietro could not believe that his father would side with the bum. He warned his father that Wanda was screwed up; he asked him to find another telepath to check her over; he tried his hardest to keep her under house arrest. Now his sister got hurt, and he was being blamed. If his father had listened to him in the first place, they wouldn't be in this situation. Pietro blew. "How did this get to be my fault?! I'm not the one who screwed up to begin with and then never showed up to fix it. He's worse than the cable guy!"

Magneto had gotten Mastermind's side of the story up to the point when the hedge spat him out a few moments before Pietro plowed into him leaving the house, but not all of the pieces fit together. He need to figure out his son's actions and motives to properly assess the situation. "And what exactly was keeping Mastermind from entering the house? I recall that you were not too happy about having him come there."

It gnawed at Pietro that his father was siding with his incompetent underling. "NO! This was not me! I'm not your scapegoat this time! Why'd you have to go and get a half-rate telepath to mess with her mind in the first place? Oh, yeah, I remember. Because you screwed up her life so badly to begin with!"

Magneto's voice grew even colder. "I suggest you do not continue the current course of this conversation."

A clueless paramedic walked up to the arguing family. "Excuse me. We're going to head over to Bayville General now. We have to run a few tests. Figure out what's wrong. Only one family member can ride with the patient. Who - "

Before the paramedic could finish, Pietro was in the back the the ambulance with the doors shut. Magneto considered preventing the steel vehicle from leaving, but reconsidered. He couldn't let his ignorant son get under his skin. He was upset his sister was hurt and refused to take the responsibility for it, like most teenagers would.

The important point was that Quicksilver was not behind the trouble Mastermind had getting to the Brotherhood. And that he might have been right about his sister.

* * *

(1) Wanda got her Kittie CD autographed off-panel when she went to the Kittie/Dazzlers concert with John, Rogue, and Remy in Nine to Five: Chapter 16 - "Are You My Dentist or My Bartender?"  
(2) See Nine to Five: Chapter 18 - "I'm a Dead Cat, Too". 

Next time on November Rain: See how six mutants decide to spend a Saturday night. Not to mention a new couple is introduced! You'll never guess who! -weg-


	11. If Only You Knew

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Eleven: If Only You Knew**

Three girls stood outside of a nicer-than-most Italian joints loitering with their hands in their jacket pockets. Even though it was early evening, the sun had set nearly an half-hour before, reminding the world that winter was quickly approaching. As if that wasn't enough, a crisp northern wind blew through the city streets, making one girl wish her roommate hadn't convinced her to wear a skirt.

"We should have had them pick us up at the mansion, like a proper date," Amara complained with her arms crossed.

Rogue, long given up on being lady-like, was sitting on the curb with her elbows resting on her knees. "Proper? Ah'll tell ya right now: if ya're lookin' for propriety, these ain' the boys."

Kitty stopped adjusting her scarf for maximum wind protection. "Speak for yourself. Piotr is very chivalrous."

"Ah don' speak fo' anyone else." Rogue unbuttoned her coat and tried wrapping it around her tight-covered legs.

Kitty smiled, remembering Rogue still hadn't answered a question she had asked earlier. "How did Remy convince you to go along with this anyway? When I asked you, you, like, rolled your eyes and asked for a pistol with a single shot."

"He gave meh the pistol."

Amara joined the conversation. "Why wouldn't you want to go out with Kitty, Peter, John, and me?"

Rogue leaned back and glanced at the other girls. "This doesn't feel a little cliché ta ya? Guys from one gang secretly datin' girls from the rival gang. I'm surprised neither o' ya have broken out inta 'I Feel Pretty.'" (1)

"Is that a request?" Kitty threatened.

"Kitty, ya have many talents, but singin' isn' one o' them."

"Maybe the boys are offstage, like, waiting for their cue in that song."

"Then this is gonna be a long, cold night."

"Why can't we wait inside again?" Amara asked.

"The host guy says we can't be seated until our entire party is here," Kitty explained.

A city bus passed the restaurant and stopped at the next block. Three men stumbled out. Regaining their balance, they started walking toward the three X-Men. The shortest orange-haired one was in the center, trying his best to walk straight. It was difficult with the bulky man cuddling his right arm like it was a towel. On the his other side, a tall man with sunglasses and a trench coat kept trying to slip his arm around the orange-haired one's waist, who'd slap him away.

Rogue stood up and smiled. "How's that fo' your propriety, Amara? They showed up late and drunk."

Kitty was in denial. "They did not."

"Ya're late!" Rogue called out to them.

"'Punctuality is the virtue of the bored,'" John yelled back and pushed Remy away from him again. (2)

The Cajun stopped and lost his sly grin. He looked from St. John to Rogue, then back again. "Two cheres?"

"NO!" John exclaimed. "Only one chere. That one!" He pointed to Rogue with is free arm.

Remy looked between them again. His gaze rested on John, and he smiled. "You can' fool me."

"NNOOO!" John shouted in aggravation. He attempted to pry his right arm from Piotr. "Here, kitty. You see that little mousey-haired girl, over there in the pretty dress. She needs a cuddle. I'm all cuddled out." Piotr looked up a Kitty briefly before burying his face back in John's coat.

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "What did ya guys drink?"

"Drink?! I wish I was seeing green fairies. Hell, I'd settle for stars. They serve alcohol in this place, right? I really need some grog."

"Only to those of age."

"What if I convince them I'm a pirate?"

Kitty shook her head.

John swore under his breath. "Bloody Americans."

"What happened?" Amara asked. Then she pointed to the Russian on John's shoulder. "Is he purring?"

"You think I know? I was typing in my room when Piotr snuck in and tried to lay in my lap. Then when I finally get him to curl up on my bed, instead of on me, Remy comes in and kisses my hand. All I wanted to do was write!" The pyromaniac was breaking down.

Suddenly a light bulb went off in John's head. He gazed lovingly at Remy. His voice had an artifical sweetness to it. "Could you buy me a drink in the restaurant, swamp bat?"

"Rat. He's a swamp rat," Rogue corrected.

John added some fluttery eyelashes to his act. "Please, swamp rat?"

Remy winked. "Anythin' for you, chere number one."

John jumped for joy. "Yes! At least I got something good outta this."

Kitty lightly touched Piotr's shoulder. "Piotr?" He looked at her nonchalantly, then started licking his hand and washing his face.

"Mastermind?" Rogue guessed.

John shrugged. "Who else? Don't have a clue why."

"At least you're okay." Amara smiled and managed to hug John between Piotr and Remy.

John didn't return the hug and shifted his eyes. "Uh, yeah. Thanks, perky one. Anyone else need to show me the love?" Kitty choked and Rogue crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Good, 'cause I'm all loved out. Shall we commence with the food and the celebrating?"

When Amara turned her back to him, John tugged on Rogue's sleeve and mouthed, "Who the hell is she?"

"Your date," she replied. From St. John's facial expression, Rogue knew the boys hadn't been honest with John about the purpose of going out that evening. "What did they tell you?"

"That we needed a new location for my going away parties, and they missed their girlfriends. Why?"

Rogue laughed and passed through the double doors.

"What? What is this really?" Rogue ignored him.

Remy opened the door for John and his Russian attachment. "I d'ought I was your date tonight."

All six of them stood in the waiting room for the host to come seat them. John pointed to the goth. "No, you're that Rogue's date."

"Can' I have you both?"

"No."

Rogue, listening, very amused, interjected, "That's okay. Ya can have him, 'Rogue.'"

"No, he cannot!" Amara piped in.

John jumped up and down. "Yes! Someone's on my side."

Amara smiled, taking John's comment as an indicator that he would rather have her on his arm. The princess took action. She grabbed Remy and pulled him toward the real Rogue, interlocked their arms, and headed back to take care of the other one.

Getting Piotr off John's arm proved harder than it looked. When he started hissing at her, Kitty stepped in and phased her date away. Amara could only relish in her victory for a few seconds before Piotr broke away from Kitty and started clawing at Amara.

Sandwiched between a hissing Russian and a territorial teenage girl, John sighed. "What I wouldn't give for catnip? Why can't that be my mutant power?"

"You'd give up fire to produce catnip?" Kitty inquired skeptically.

"Only temporary. Like those times your teammate thinks he's a cat."

"That happen often?" Rogue asked.

John lowered his head as if sharing a secret. "If only you knew."

The restaurant host approached the mutants. "Hello! Welcome to Vitale's. Is there something I can help you with?"

Kitty spoke for the group. "We'd like a table for six, non-smoking." John groaned.

The host eyed the men in their entourage: Remy in his sunglasses and tattered trench coat, Piotr in jeans, and John with a holey denim jacket thrown over a T-shirt with and obscene phrase written on it, not to mention the strange way they were acting. "You do know that we have a dress code here."

Given the other events since their arrival, the girls had not noticed the shabbiness of their counterparts.

"John!" Kitty exclaimed. "Could you have worn a more offensive T-shirt?"

He looked down at his black shirt and read: "My Pen is Enormous." He laughed and answered the girl, "Probably."

Kitty pleaded with the host using her biggest puppy-eyed face. "Don't you have some spare jackets or something around here for such emergencies?"

The host concidered her requested, but after seeing Piotr licking between his fingers and purring, he shook his head. "I am sorry, miss. But this isn't an emergency, this is a disaster, and we are not the Red Cross." The host ushered the group outdoors.

"Why didn't you dress nice for tonight?" Amara asked John sweetly, containing all of her anger and embarrassment.

"You ever try to get dressed with one bloke on all fours brushing up against your leg while the another one plays with your hair?" Rogue snorted at the imagery. "I was surprised I got out of the house, much less on the bus and to the right place. Who picked out this hoity-toity joint anyway?"

Amara's face grew red and stomped her foot. "I did. It's a nice, respectable place for a date."

John shrugged. "Too stuffy for my taste. Might be fun to get kicked out of once or twice. But not for wardrobe. Not enough finesse."

"So what do we do now?" Rogue asked.

"Burn something?" John suggested.

"No."

"Jump a pizza guy?"

"No."

"The Schwann's man?"

"No."

"Get some Kitty Kibble?"

"No."

"Chase mice?"

"No."

"Eat bark?"

"NO!"

* * *

"How long do we have to stay here? It smells bad. Can't we just take Wanda and get out of here?" Pietro complained as he sulked in the hard hospital chairs. 

"We have to wait for the test results so we know what is wrong with her," his father replied.

"I know what's wrong with her."

"Don't be so foolhardy." Magneto looked to the hospital bed Wanda was resting in. "Or so loud. You'll wake her."

Pietro slumped further in his chair. He pointed to the third man in the room. "Why is he still here, anyway?"

"I thought you would want him here, since you are so sure that his work is responsible. If the doctors do not know what is wrong, he'll be here to test your theory, and no polterguists can keep him away."

"Why not test my theory while we wait? Save us a couple hours."

Magneto looked at his watch, then each of the mutants in the room. His son did have a point. He was expecting a call in a few hours, and hospitals weren't known for their speedy service.

"Mastermind."

"Yes, sir?"

Magneto waved the telepath toward his unconscious daughter. "Go ahead and scan her mind for any problems." The minion hesitated. "What are you waiting for? There are no bushes here to be afraid of."

Mastermind took two steps toward the bed, then ate linolium.

Pietro snickered. "The shrubbery has friends."

"Quiet," Magneto ordered. He nodded toward Mastermind to procede.

Cautiously, the man approached Wanda again. His hands hovered over her temples, and his eyes began to glow. A true blue glow formed around Wanda's head, and Mastermind was thrown from the bedside to the opposite wall. The witch groaned and turned over.

"What was that?" Magneto shouted.

"It looked like one of Wanda's hex bolts."

"I thought she was sleeping."

Pietro sped over to his sister's bed and poked her. "She is."

"How did she do that while she was sleeping?"

Mastermind slowly got to his feet mumbling, "I'm all right. Nothing broken." He looked at his hand and noticed it was cut and bleeding. "Great, blood." He fainted, but none of the others noticed.

A knock at the window interrupted Pietro and his father. They turned and saw a white barn owl knocking on the glass. A second later it was gone.

Turning back to Wanda's bed, a new person was at her side. The stranger pulled the hood of her cloak back, revealling a face that had definately lived.

Pietro grimanced at her wrinkles. "Who are you?"

Her voice crackled but it had an underlying tone of experience. "I'm surprised you don't remember me, boy. And your concept of what's beautiful is a little narrow."

Pietro gasped. "A telepath!" He looked to his father. "You did get another telepath!"

The old woman's laugh sounded like sizzling meat. "No, boy. I'm not a telepath, just a witch. Your expressions are not so guarded that I cannot read them. And your megalomaniac father had nothing to do with my coming." She straightened the sheet on Wanda's bed and brushed some hair out of her face.

"Get away from my daughter," Magneto growled.

The old woman looked up, expressionless. "You do not frighten me. I will do as I please." She went back to tending to her old charge.

Magneto pulled the side bars off the hospital bed and wrapped them around the old woman. He pinned her against the wall. "Are you frightened now?"

"No." She waved her hand, and the bar went loosened and fell to the floor. She returned to Wanda's bedside.

Pietro's eyes sparked with recognition. "Now I remember you! You knocked Wanda out when Mystique first brought her to the Brotherhood!"

"She did not understand her powers. She was bound to get hurt. She still does not comprehend all she is capable of."

Magneto's eyes narrowed. "And what is that?"

The old woman ignored his question. "She must be allowed back under my tutelage."

"She isn't going anywhere with a friend of Mystique's."

"Then you are a fool. But that is not surprising."

Pietro approached the opposite side of Wanda's bed. "What's happening to her?"

"You are aware, even if you do not know. You two do share a bond." The old witch nodded to the unconscious Mastermind. "Her subconscious has been casting spells her conscious mind is hesitant about. It has prevented that man from getting too close to her. It also called me to her side. But that is not my main concern."

Magneto could not believe this woman had walked into his world and was pretending to know what was going on. He was a man of science, not of magic. Wanda's powers were a result of genetic mutation, not some hokey fairy tale. "I do not care about your concerns. Leave now and stay away from my daughter."

The old woman stared through the mutant. "You should." She took a step back. "I will leave now, because she does not need me at the moment. But when she does, and she calls to me again, I will not hesitate to come. You cannot stop me." She pulled up her hood.

"We'll see about that," was Magneto's empty retort. The old crone left unceremonously.

"What if she can help?" Pietro whispered after she had gone.

"She's a crazy old lady. Probably here to get a new prescription for her meds. There is no mojo she can perform that will help Wanda with her mutant powers. We are her family. We are mutants. We will help her."

The silver-haired teenager didn't comment. . . out loud. _Like we helped her by putting her in an institution?_

* * *

If it wasn't for Piotr clinging to him like a baby chick, John would have asked Remy to carry him to the fourth restaurant they tried to eat at. Of the other three restaurants, certain people were blacklisted at two of them, and the third was a Coney Island, where Amara refused to eat at and the vegetrian Kitty seconded eatting at someplace that didn't smell like mystery meat and mustard. 

The six of them dragged their feet into number four. The seating arrangement was a little difficult since half the party wanted to sit next to John. After much squabling and scratching, John ended up sitting between his two brainwashed roommates and across from his Nova Roman date. After a few cheap tricks, they even managed to get Piotr in his own chair. He was calm as long as John continually petted his head.

"Everything on this menu is full of carbs," Amara complained.

The rest of the table was too preoccupied with drooling over their menus to talk.

"Carbs are so fattening," Amara tried to start up a conversation.

John twitched. He was beginning to do it before any words came out of her mouth. All she had done all night was talk about clothes, huff and puff when he wasn't chilverous like Peter, and complain. He wondered how in the world anyone had gotten the idea that they should date. "What does that matter? It's not like you're fat."

Amara took his words as a compliment and blushed. "Thanks."

John opened his mouth to say something, but felt a kick from someone under the table. "OUCH!"

Kitty glared at him and tried to project the message to shut up and be nice. Unfortunately, Pyro was not a telepath.

"What the hell was that for? If you were trying to play footsie with your cat-man you missed!"

"I'm trying to salvage this evening by keeping you from saying stupid things."

"Then you had better tape my mouth shut because I don't plan to ever stop!"

Kitty looked at him, confused. "Do you realize you totally insulted yourself?"

"Of course I do!"

Across town, Mastermind fainted at the sight of his own blood. Piotr sat up a little straighter and looked around. He looked to John. "Why are you brushing my hair?"

Both Kitty and John shouted with joy and hugged the Russian. "You're back!" Then they glared at each other as they let Piotr have his personal space back. Kitty filled her boyfriend in.

John looked to his other side, where a pale Remy stared straight forward, and Rogue could not stop laughing.

Remy eventually found words. "Did I really try an' kiss you?"

"Try? You suceeded on numerous occasions, you sexy man. Are we still on for tonight?" John teased, putting his arm around Cajun.

"No, he didn't," Amara argued.

John threw up his arms. "Go and ruin my fun."

From the other side of the table, Piotr smacked his mouth. "My tongue feels funny," he remarked.

"Probably 'cause you were licking yourself," John told him.

Piotr paled.

"Just your hand," Kitty reassured him.

"That's all you saw."

Kitty glared at him.

Remy remembered his and Piotr's bet. He turned to Rogue. "Anyone slap John yet?"

Rogue smiled. "Ya slapped his ass once."

Remy frowned. "You didn't have to tell me dat."

"Now that everyone's back to normal, maybe we can switch spots," Amara suggested.

"Why?" John asked.

"So I can sit next to you, silly."

"Again, why?"

"We're supposed to be on a date, remember? Dates are supposed to sit next to each other. Kitty and Piotr and Rogue and Remy are."

"Yeah, about that. I don't get where this became - OUCH!" John was kicked again. He turned to Kitty. "Would you stop, woman?!"

Amara glared at the valley girl as well. "Yeah, Kitty. Some of us like to here what John has to say." Kitty rolled her eyes after Amara turned back to John. She smiled. "Go ahead: 'Say what's on your mind?'"(3)

John casually looked up from his menu. "'I'm kinda hungry, and you ain't my type.'"

Amara's smile fell from her face, and the table grew silent. John continued to browse the menu as if he hadn't crush the young girl's heart. Amara recovered quickly. "What do you mean by that?"

"Uh, I thought it was pretty self-explanatory."

"'You're cold as hell.'"

John looked up in thought. "I wouldn't say that. Hell isn't that cold. 'I know 'cause I've been there for the last half-hour or so and the Devil said it never snows.'"

There were tears welling in her eyes. "But the other day, we hit it off so well! We kissed and everything."

John was clueless. "Huh?"

"The other day, at the mall. I bought you clothes, we had frozen yogurt, you stood up for me in front of mall security. . . " Amara paused before bursting. "You said I was your Fire Pixie!"

Remy's jaw dropped. "The Fire Pixie was a real girl?"

John scrunched up his face and thought for a second. A few hazy memories of his drunken escapade came back to him. "That was you?"

"Of course it was me! Who did you think it was? You said I was your good fire karma returned to you. I still don't get it, but why are you acting like this now?"

"I said that?" John wondered. "Huh. That's a good line. I've got to remember that."

"Why are you acting so different now?"

"I was three sheets to the wind that day."

"More like sixty," Remy commented.

Amara didn't get it. "Huh?"

"He was drunk off his ass, Amara," Rogue translated.

Kitty had an epiphany. "Now it makes sense."

John folded his hands on top of his menu. "You may be a princess, luv, but I am not Bob Hope pretending to be a pirate. I'm the real deal." (4)

She was speechless. Then the girl shook her head. "No, you and I are connected. You control fire and I am fire. You're just too hung up on your selfish ex-girlfriend to notice. But I'll prove it to you one day." She ran from the restaurant before the others could see her cry.

Kitty glared at the heartbreaker. "Thanks, John." Then she sighed. "I better go after her. I'll catch up with you guys later."

"So who wants to split some nachos?" John asked.

* * *

Aside from some distant beeping, the room was silent. On one side of Wanda's hospital bed sat her twin brother Pietro. He was slouched with his arms crossed, showing all the signs of extreme boredom. On the other side of her bed stood Magneto, tall and regal but exhibiting all the signs of impatience transforming into anger. 

"What a lively family reunion," Wanda commented. Neither of the men replied. "What happened to Mastermind?"

"I sent him back to base," Magneto answered. The Master of Magnetism dismissed Mastermind after he regained consciousness and got stitches in his hand. He didn't believe the old witch's theory about his daughter, but he could not deny that Mastermind could not approach Wanda without her powers causing something bad to happen to him.

Growing bored as well, Wanda ouijaed her jacket to her. She pulled out her set of mediation balls to play with while they waited for the doctor.

Magneto eyed the balls and the pagan writing on them suspiciously. "Where did you get those?"

Wanda did not stop spinning the balls in her hand. "Agatha Harkness gave them to me. They help me focus."

"Is that the old witch's name? The one Mystique introduced you to?"

The apprentice witch nodded. Magneto used his powers and ripped the balls from her hand. He opened the window and tossed them out, not caring where they fell or how much momentum they would build on the way down.

Wanda got onto her knees and made a move to get out of bed. "What did you do that for? If it was annoying you, you could have said something."

He stared down his daughter. "You are to have nothing to do with that witch ever again. Do you hear me?"

Wanda didn't remember ever seeing her father talk or act such a way with her before. For a second, she was intimidated. Then she regained her composure. But before she could speak, the doctor's white coat flashed through the door, rivaling Pietro's speed.

The doctor waved a large manilla envelope. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I have the test results, so if everyone could take a seat. . ." Wanda settled back at the head of the bed, Pietro sat up, but Magneto remained standing.

After realizing he was not going to sit down, the doctor shrugged and started pulling transparencies out of the envelope and putting them up on the light board. He explained the different splotches of light and dark until Magento looked at his watch and sighed for the third time.

The doctor decided to skip the rest of his interesting lecture about the human brain. "From these results, all I can determine is that the patient's episode was caused by intense migraines. It is not uncommon for young women these days to start experiencing migraines, especially before and during menstruation. There are many things that can trigger them: hormonal changes, certain smells and food, stress, bright lights, physical exertion including sexual activity, changes in the environment, or medications. Is the patient on any medications?"

Magneto looked blank.

Luckily, Wanda spoke for herself. "Just aspirin."

"How often?"

Wanda shrugged. "A couple times a day."

The doctor put his hand on his chin. "How long have you been having these headaches?"

"A couple weeks," she guessed. Pietro coughed; Magneto glared at him.

"Well, that counts out a few possible triggers. Have you noticed any common factor when you've started to get headaches?"

Wanda shrugged again. "Well, the smell at the coffee shop was bothering me. And sometimes when I'm around this guy I'll get a small one. But there's nothing I can think of that has happened every time."

"Guy?" her father questioned. Pietro coughed.

Wanda blushed and ignored him. She addressed the doctor. "What should I do?"

The doctor scribbled on his prescription pad and his other paperwork. "For right now, I'm going to prescribe a strong painkiller that you need to take as soon as you start feeling the symptoms. Take it with food as it may disrupt the lining of your stomach, which is probably pretty sensitive because of all the aspirin you've been taking. This probably goes without saying, but don't drink any alcoholic beverages while taking it or operate any machinery. The medication may cloud a person's mind, makes things foggy, easily confused, and hard to concentrate on for long periods of time. I wouldn't recommend popping one, then trying to take the SATs. Other side effects like nausea, vomiting, fever, bloody stools/urine, decreased hearing, seizures, dizziness, and hallucinations are rare but if you are experiencing them, stop taking it.

"Pain killers do not get rid of the migraine, but temporarily increase your tolerance to it. If the migraine has not run its course by the time the pain killer wears off, then the migraine will return. This, obviously, is not a long term treatment, but I can't prescribe you anything more without an extensive family history and complete physical to rule out any complications." He handed the illegible prescription to the girl along with a pamphlet and another sheet of paper.

"On that paper is a list of doctors in the area that have had extensive experience with migraine patients. Choose one to schedule an appointment with. You will meet with them to get a physical and talk about long term treatment options. It will be a triptan, most likely, that adjusts the serotonin levels in the brain actually aborting the migraine when taken at the very first signs, so unlike the pain killer, the migraine will not return. There are also preventative medications available, but those may take some time to find the correct dosage. You'll be able to discuss all of this in more detail with the specialist.

"I also recommend getting an allergy screening, especially since you said some odors may be triggering the migraines. It could be a side-effect of an allergy. If that is the case, then avoiding those foods or odors may reduce the frequency of your migraines. Any more questions?" The doctor paused for half a second. "Good. Have a good night. The nurse will help you with signing out." The three mutants blinked, and he was gone.

The boys completed the paperwork at the nurses station while Wanda dressed. "There wasn't a problem with Wanda's new memories after all. Migraines are a normal occurrence among girls her age," Magneto told his son.

Pietro snorted. "So it's only a coincidence that Wanda started getting migraines after her head was messed with?"

"Yes. You were wrong. So was that witch. There was nothing magical going on here. It can all be explained with science."

"Yes, Father," Pietro recited. He was sick of arguing with his father. He was never going to see any more than he wanted to.

Wanda came up behind the two of them with her prescription in her hand. "Is everything set?"

Magneto nodded. "I will take you two back to the Brotherhood house. Pietro, I expect you make sure that you and the boys are prepared and packed to leave for the mission by Tuesday morning. And I don't want more than one suitcase per person, including you."

Wanda looked at the quarter piece of paper in her hand. "Father, I need to get my prescription filled before we leave for Florida. Can we stop by a pharmacy on the way back to the Brotherhood?"

Magneto used the same voice he used when talking about Agatha. "You will not be going to Florida."

"What? Why not?"

"You are sick, Wanda. Until we get proper medication and know it's working, I can't risk it." Before Wanda could retort, her father spoke again, "This is not up for discussion."

Out of the implanted respect she held for her father, the Scarlet Witch bit her tongue.

* * *

Like the night before, Jean stood outside of Scott's cell. This time she had a smile on her face. It had taken her all day to work up the courage to initiate her new plan. And it worked. 

"Are you ready?" A calm voice came from behind her.

Jean smiled and turned to reply. "Yes, Professor."

"I'm very proud of you, Jean," he said.

"I'm just glad your back."

"'I had you to guide me.' It took great bravery and control to enter my mind and help me find my way back to the living. You are progressing so fast."

"Now that you're back, I have you to guide me, too."

The professor shook his head. "It won't be long before I have shown you all I can. Then you will have to venture out on your own. Like you did today."

Jean scoffed. "That won't happen, Professor. You're the most powerful telepath on the planet."

"Power is not an eternal thing. Power waxes and wanes. Soon it will be your day."

Jean blushed. "That's crazy, Professor." She looked at the locked door and frowned. "Do you think that presence is still with Scott?"

"From what you told me of Scott's testimony, I doubt it. But I'll do a quick read to make sure. Be ready in case it takes over and he attacks."

Jean nodded and unlocked the door. With a swish the door opened, and the professor wheeled in.

"Scott? Will you allow me to scan your mind for the other presence before we release you?"

Scott looked up and jingled his chains. "I'm surprised Jean didn't convince you that I was smoking crack."

Xavier sensed Jean's shame from the hallway. "That's not fair, Scott."

"Just do it and let me out."

The professor scowled but followed through. "I do not sense the presence in you. Jean, will you unlock the restraining device?"

She entered the room and knelt down next to Scott. He refused to look at her, and she unlocked the device.

"Do you have any idea what it was, Scott? Or what it was after?" Professor Xavier asked.

He stood up and rubbed his wrists. "No. It jumped me in the bathroom at school. Everything after that is fuzzy. Then it jumped into Amara. Have you scanned her yet?"

"Amara? No, Jean informed me that she is out with Kitty and Rogue tonight. We'll have to wait until she returns."

"I doubt it's still in her. Whatever it wanted, it got it and left."

"I worry that this isn't the last we've heard of it."

"What should we do?" Jean asked.

"The only thing we can do is be on the defensive. Watchful for when it comes back. What day is tomorrow?"

"Sunday," Jean answered.

"Jean, would you inform the others that we will have a short briefing on the situation at three tomorrow?" She nodded. "Good. I think I'm going to retire now. I'll leave you two to talk." The professor wheeled out of the room.

They didn't speak. They heard the elevator ding and take the professor away his living quarters.

"Scott - " Jean started. He ignored her and brushed past her. She followed him, pleading. "I did believe you, but I couldn't risk the entire team on my instinct."

He pressed the call button for the elevator. Scott did not turn around. "When the time comes and instinct is all you have, what happens then?" The elevator opened, and Scott got in. He closed the door before Jean could follow him.

The redhead stood in the steel hallway with her head hung low.

* * *

"Dat was one night for de books, non?" Remy asked Rogue as they stood facing each other outside of the X-Jeep. After finding Amara, Kitty called the Institute for a ride back. John and Piotr were fighting over leftovers and mocking the couple from a nearby bus bench, waiting for Remy to say goodbye so they could catch the bus back to the base. 

Rogue chuckled. "Ah don' think Ah'll ever forget it." She did feel a little bad about Amara, but she was young; she'd get over it. And it wasn't as if she wasn't warned.

"Oui, you don' have an insane father wit' access to de latest in brainwashin'."

"Ya still haven' told meh all that ya found out 'bout Wanda."

With all that had happened between the two, Remy had forgotten. Once he was sure he was out of John's earshot, he filled her in on everything from his conversation with Jason to that afternoon when he found out Mastermind was being ordered to enter the girl's mind a second time. "I d'ought dat since Jason was goin' into her mind anyway, he could fix a few other d'ings as well, but I kinda promised him I wouldn' bother him 'bout John and Wanda again. So I sent Petey to go do it. You saw how dat turned out."

"An' the final pieces fall inta place." Rogue glanced at her watch. "Ah should head back. Don' want ta miss curfew again."

Remy opened the car door for her. "Can I come see you tomorrow?"

Rogue raised an eyebrow as she got in. "Ya're askin' now? Ya sure Mastermind still isn't messin' with ya?"

Remy grinned and played along. "I'm sure, John-boy. I know I finally have Rogue talkin' wit' me again, but I keep thinkin' 'bout you an' de time we shared together."

Rogue laughed. "Tomorrow." She slammed the door. As Remy grew smaller in her rear view mirror, Rogue thought about the article in _MZ_ about gene therapy and smiled. _There might be hope fo' us yet._

* * *

(1) "I Feel Pretty" is one of the songs from the musical _West Side Story. _Probably the most annoying one in the musical.  
(2) Quote of author Evelyn Arthur St. John Waugh.  
(3) Following conversation contains lyrics from Marvelous 3's song "Cold as Hell". One of my faves.  
(4) In the 1944 movie _The Princess and the Pirate_, Bob Hope plays an entertainer who falls in love with a princess and have some pretty crazy adventures. Pretty good for a 40's flick. 

A/N : Who thought the new couple of Remy and John was a hoot?!

Next time: Someone is leaving on an unexpected trip, Remy gets an expert opinion of the Wanda situation, and more!


	12. Say Goodbye to Nancy, Joan

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twelve: Say Goodbye To Nancy, Joan **

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon in a converted warehouse in downtown Bayville. Magneto glanced at the clock in his office and did a few quick calculations in his head. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. Listened to the operator then dialed another. After pressing a few more buttons, he finally was connected to the line he desired.

"So the mighty Magneto has finally discovered how to dial long distance. I am proud," said the voice on the line.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Psychic." After hearing a momentary pause of disbelief from Magneto, he continued, "Do you think I'd actually give you my personal phone number? This is your phone alone. Don't you feel special?"

"Your phone bills must be enormous," he deadpanned.

"Not under my family plan. My family of one shares many phones."

"Now I fully realize how much you love hearing yourself speak."

"In several languages now. I've had some spare time freezing my butt off here in Siberia."

"You are not in Siberia, and you are monetarily compensated."

"Yeah, about that - "

"Tell me what you found at the location I sent you to."

"Just what you said it would be. Crumbly old building shot to hell."

"Is there conclusive evidence there or not?"

"I wouldn't call it conclusive, but with a little 'mind-bending' the farm boy could put two and two together."

"Fine. I'll send Colossus and Mastermind out next week to take a look. Colossus will be staying with his family, so you can have the week off to entertain yourself."

"Next week might be a little late."

"You already have a vacation planned? That's too bad."

"Actually the Russian government has the plans. They're knocking the death trap down tomorrow."

"It's the Russian government. It'll still be there next week."

"The demolition notices said it was going down two months ago."

"Then by the Russian calendar they are only one month late. I still have another thirty days at least." (1)

"There were big yellow bulldozers."

Magneto sighed. _The one time government workers are actually doing their job._ "Delay them. Sabotage their work if you have to. I'll send Colossus and Mastermind out tonight. Pick them up in St. Petersburg tomorrow night. Then take a week."

"Are they bringing my bonus for playing chauffeur, since I don't recall that being in my job description?"

"Take two weeks," Magneto grumbled.

"Sabotage and a two week vacation. Christmas has come early."

"Just be at the airport."

"With bells on."

* * *

"I had no idea the professor could talk about, like, nothing for so long," Kitty exclaimed to Rogue as they retired to their bedroom after dinner.

Rogue opened the door after Kitty walked through it. "He probably could have gone on longer, if Kurt's stomach growlin' didn' drown him out."

Kitty plopped down on her bed and sat Indian style, watching Rogue walk to the balcony doors. "And really, what did we find out? That some freaky ghost-thing possessed Scott, stole something, probably from Cerebro, and then left, maybe through Amara. We don't know what it looks like, what it knows, what it was after, or if it will ever come back. I'm surprised he didn't put the mansion on 'orange high alert'." (2)

Rogue peeked out of the curtains. "How many people do ya think will follow Scott's 'buddy system' idea? I mean, 'sides Scott an' Jean." She snorted. "Those two will find any excuse to spend more time together."

Kitty gave Rogue a questioning look as she pulled her messenger bag from the floor and set it in her lap. "How oblivious are you?"

Rogue stopped searching the grounds and turned around. "Huh?"

"Didn't you notice how angry Scott is at Jean? It was practically radiating off of him!"

"What? Still? Are ya serious?"

"Completely and utterly. Scott refused to look at her. He ridiculed every idea she came up with. He made snide remarks under his breath every time she talked. I can't even imagine what thoughts he was projecting her way. What I want to know is why Jean was taking it?"

Rogue nodded, recalling every point Kitty made that she hadn't put together. "That's not like Miss Susan B. Anthony at all. 'Specially since she was the one who woke up the professor so she could let him out."

"No kidding." Something caught Kitty's eye behind Rogue's back. She looked down at the books in her lap, so Rogue would not see her evil smile. Once she regained her composure, Kitty continued the conversation as normal. "You think he's still angry about being put in lock-up in the first place?"

Rogue looked out the window again but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Ah don't know. Could be. He's a man. Who knows what he's thinkin'?"

Kitty smiled and changed the subject. "True. But I know what you're thinking!" She giggled.

Rogue rolled her eyes and turned her face toward her roommate. "What?"

"You're wishing Remy was here!"

Rogue completely turned from the balcony windows and pretended to busy herself with her dirty clothes on the floor, but she couldn't help blushing. "No."

"Yes, you are!" she teased.

"No." Rogue felt the redness leave her face and looked Kitty in the eye. "If ya must know, he was supposed ta come over today. I was tryin' ta figure out if he came by durin' the meetin' or not."

"Why don't you just call him?"

Rogue glared at then ignored the girl.

"Oh, you don't want to look desperate. Like the highlight of your day is getting to see him. . ." Kitty trailed off with a dreamy look in her eye. Then she added, "Even though it totally is."

Rogue ignored her and fumbled through her own backpack, but Kitty continued rambling, "You know, the truth can set you free. Lose of this tough girl facade and embrace your feelings."

"It ain't a facade."

Kitty sighed. "I tried. At least I got you to admit that you like-like him."

"Eat book." Rogue chucked a library book at Kitty, who merely phased through it.

Kitty solidified and picked up the book behind her. "_From Scythia to Camelot: A Radical Reassessment of the Legends of King Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table, and the Holy Grail_. Sounds exciting!"

"European history projects always are."

Kitty skimmed the back cover as she replied, "I wasn't kidding."

"Ya wanna write the report for meh?"

Kitty tossed the book onto Rogue's bed. "Not that exciting."

"Course it's not, I wasn' here yet," Remy interrupted as he slipped in the room.

Rogue jumped and Kitty laughed. The Goth realized that Kitty had been distracting her so Remy could scare her. "Ah knew ya weren' all that interested in that book."

Kitty swallowed her laugh, but still smiled. "I was too." Then she broke out in giggles.

Remy stepped toward Rogue and rested his hand lightly on the small of her back. "So, chere, I hear you like-like me."

Rogue shoved him away from her onto her bed. "How long ya been standin' outside mah window?"

"Sittin' on the roof's more like it." The thief rubbed his chin in thought and made himself more comfortable on her bed. "'Bout half an hour."

She shook her head. "That's pathetic."

"Some would t'ink so. But when you're de highlight of someone's day - " Remy was unable to finish his sentence with pillow in his mouth. 

The goth glanced to her roommate as she smothered her boyfriend. "Ah hate ya, Kitty."

"You still have to tell me, like, one more time to meet your quota for the day."

Rogue let up on Remy, stood up, and smacked Kitty with her pillow as she walked by. Rogue opened the balcony doors and nodded outside.

Remy only stared at her from the bed. "It's cold outside."

"Kitty ain't gonna give us any privacy in here."

"What do you guys need privacy for?" Kitty interjected with a teasing glint in her eye.

"She isn' gonna give us privacy out dere either. At least in here we're warm."

"He's right. I'll just phase my head through the wall like last time."

Rogue stood her ground next to the open door. Remy sighed and rolled off the comfortable bed. "Fine," he whined as he dragged his feet outside. Rogue followed him out, closing the door behind her.

"What's new?" Rogue started as she sat on the balcony railing with her back resting on the side of the mansion.

Remy made himself comfortable on the railing running parallel to the house, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to maintain his balance. "T'ought you wanted ta hear de old news?"

Rogue was surprised. This was the most straightforward he had ever been with his past. "Sure, if ya wanna jump right in."

Remy pulled his trench coat tighter. "Usually I like de foreplay and pillow talk, but not when my skivvies are freezin'." He looked to Rogue and noticed her arms were shaking despite her purple sweater. Remy the gentleman took over. He hopped off the railing and whipped off his jacket. "Here."

"Ah'm fine," she lied. "It was mah idea ta come out here."

Remy rolled his eyes. "Just take it. It'll be my good deed of de day." Remy shook it out in front of her like a food offering before the goth reluctantly took the coat. She put it on backwards to keep her slightly exposed belly warm.

Remy leaned up against the mansion next to Rogue instead of returning to his wind-exposed seat. He held his arms and smiled down at her. "Which one of my mysteries would you like to solve tonight, chere? Why I chose cards as my weapon? De origin of my trench coat? How I got to be so ruggedly handsome?"

The question had been burning in Rogue's mind for several days. "Who's Alice?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "D'ought you were interested in me?" He looked out over the mansion grounds as Rogue waited for his real response. "In a word, trouble. If you ever see her again, run de other way."

"What's your history with her?"

"Jealous, ma chere?" Remy forced a laugh.

"Ya wish."

"I was recruiting her to work for de old boss. He really wanted her, too. Wouldn't let anythin' stop him. Romantically, don't have much. Went out for coffee once or twice for business mostly. Kissed at some point. "

Rogue snorted. "Remy the player let a pretty girl like Alice go with only one kiss? Ah find that hard ta believe."

"Believe it, chere. Maybe if de timin' was better, we coulda had somethin' den. Even so, didn' see it lastin', no matter what her petite soeur marieur said."

"Her what?"

"Matchmaker little sister. Claimed she saw auras and used her powers to hook people up."

"Did it work?"

"At the time of her death she had a hundred-percent success rate."

Rogue looked down at her hands. "She died."

"Oui. She was a belle little thing too. She held Alice's world together for her. Alice died not long after."

"What do ya mean, 'Alice died'? Ah met her last week!"

"You didn't meet Alice. You met Malice. Alice flipped out after her sister died. She used her powers to infiltrate the people she thought were responsible for her sister's death and murdered them all. Got a taste for it now. Can' go a day wit'out makin' everyone in her path as miserable as she is."

"What can she do?"

"Anyt'ing. She - "

The phone rang inside Rogue and Kitty's bedroom. Kitty's disembodied head exclaimed from the rooftop. "Shoot! And I was just getting the scoop on the competition."

"KITTY!" Rogue yelled at her nosy roommate.

"I have to keep an eye on you, Rogue. Remember Scott's buddy system?" she replied before sinking into the bedroom.

Rogue moved off the balcony, handing Remy his jacket as she walked by. She pulled a jacket from her closet and watched Kitty settle down with the phone on her own bed. Satisfied that the valley girl would not be spying on her for the time being, she rejoined Remy outside.

"Ah can't believe she would - "

"Oui, you can."

"Well, yeah."

"Scott's institutin' a buddy system? Guess dat means he's outta de joint."

"Yeah, got out last night," Rogue trailed off as she realized something. "The professor's awake! We can ask him 'bout Wanda now." Rogue opened the door to go back inside, completely forgetting about Alice.

Remy laid a hand on her shoulder. "You don' have to. I'll go. I owe it to John."

"But Ah want to. Wanda's mah friend too. An' John-boy has his moments."

"You been gettin' too much flack fo' your company. I have ta go 'cause I was dere, and I talked to Mastermind and de witch. You don' have to."

Rogue glared at him. "Why don't ya want meh ta go?"

"You don' have to be dere, and I don't want you to get in trouble. I figure I'm not on Scott's approved buddy list."

"Since when do Ah care?"

Remy kissed her hand. "I'll be back, promise." The thief lifted himself onto the roof and ran off into the shadows.

Rogue stormed through her room and soon arrived at the doors of Professor Xavier's study. She cracked open the door. His back was to her, but she could tell he was on the phone. There were crystals strewn on his desk, and Rogue had a flashback to the time Xavier confided his true business with her (3). Shuddering, Rogue slid the door shut and returned to her room to await Remy's return. _The Cajun can handle it_.

* * *

"Slow down, Peter. You're switching between languages!" Kitty interrupted the unusually talkative Russian over the phone.

She heard him take a deep breath and start over. "I am going home to my sister and my grandmother!"

Kitty's mouth fell open. She couldn't believe Piotr was leaving already. They hadn't even been dating a week! "Home? To Russia?"

"Yes, Magneto called me into his office. He said I would be going to Russia for two weeks!"

Kitty sighed with relief. It was only a vacation. "Two weeks. That's a long time. When are you leaving?"

"Tonight."

Kitty almost choked. "Tonight?! Magneto tells you today that you are leaving for Russia in, like, a few hours?"

"Yes. What is wrong?"

The valley girl showed the paranoia she had picked up from living with Rogue. "Doesn't that seem a little suspicious to you?"

"No. There is one more thing and that is why it happens fast."

Kitty waited for him to tell her what the other thing was. He didn't. "Like, what was the other thing?"

Piotr's voice grew almost inaudible. "Uh. . . my brother. Magneto learned of a place the government held my brother for a time. It is being destroyed this week, so we must leave tonight."

Kitty almost matched his volume to show him her sympathy. "You've never told me much about your brother. What happened to him?" Kitty already knew the Reader's Digest version, but Piotr didn't know that. (4)

He took a deep breath. "He was taken from my family by the government. I was at school. I could not help him or the rest of my family."

"Do you have any idea why?"

"I do not know for sure. Magneto suspects that the government wished to use Mikhail as a weapon. It was known in many of the neighboring villages that Mikhail had superhuman powers. Some claimed he was a god, but he was only my big brother: An overconfident, uh, what is the word, show-off that could make things disappear and sometimes reappear."

"Sometimes?"

"Sometimes the rabbit never came back."

"Never came back, like dead, or - "

"Burnt rabbit does not smell good."

"Gotcha. Why didn't you want to tell me this before?"

"When I think of my brother, I think of the day he was taken. It was not a happy day. It was also the day that changed my life."

"Did you find out you had powers too?"

Kitty strained to hear Piotr. "Yes, I found my powers, and I lost many, many more things. Some I could rebuild. Others I could not."

"Most of your family died when they took your brother, didn't they?"

Piotr choked up. He eventually managed to whisper harshly. "There was so much fire and smoke! I could only save my sister and my grandmother. I was too late . . ."

"Stop, Peter. It isn't your fault they are gone."

"I should have been there."

"What would that have done?"

"I could have fought with my brother - "

"No, Peter. That's not what would have happened. You would have been kidnapped along with your brother. Who would have saved your little snowflake then? Who would be around to make sure she was taken care of?"

"No, I could have - "

Kitty interrupted him again. "You can spend the rest of your life playing the what-if game. Focusing on the past you can't change, feeling bad for yourself. Or you can accept it and look at the good that happened that day. Sometimes bad things happen, but there's always a reason. There was a reason you were not at home when they took your brother. Someone had to save your sister and your grandmother. That someone was you."

He opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out. Kitty's words had broke through a layer of regret he had harbored since his brother was taken. There were many layers there, made of different things. He didn't fully accept her theory, but exposed him to a new perspective. He had never seen the day in such a light before. No matter how many times his sister would hug him and tell him that he was her hero. 

Kitty grew leery of the silence. "Peter? Piotr? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I am here. I am impressed by your words. I only saw what I could do that day if I was on time. I never considered if I had returned home on time that I would have been able to do less."

"That's what I'm here for. And it wasn't just words. It's the truth. It's what I believe." There was silence on the both ends as they absorbed what they were saying. Kitty decided to move onto lighter topics. "I can't believe you are leaving. What's the weather like in your village right now?"

Piotr was also relieved to be talking about something not quite so personal. "Cold. There should be a small layer of snow on the ground."

Remembering that Piotr didn't live in a city, Kitty grew nervous about keeping in contact. They had been talking on the phone once or twice a day for what seemed like forever, although she knew it was only a few weeks. She wasn't sure she could quit that cold turkey. "Do you have internet where you live?"

"There is a library in the nearest village, but it has only a few computers."

"Well, if you get a chance, send me an email."

"I do not have an email address."

"Oops. I forgot you that you don't like computers very much. Do you know if Remy got you any international minutes for your cell phone?"

"No, I do not. I will ask him and telephone you if I do."

"Good. Two weeks is a long time not to talk to you."

"I wish I could see you once more before I go."

"Me, too. I'd give you a goodbye kiss."

Piotr was confused as to what that meant. "Like _Casablanca_?"

"No! You'd better be coming back. I didn't mean a _goodbye_ goodbye kiss. More like a 'have a safe trip and see you soon' kiss."

"I like that much better."

"I'll miss you."

"I will miss you also."

"We just got together and now you're leaving. For a second I was scared that all of our time together was up. I didn't want it to be, like, over without knowing you."

"We are not over. I am coming back. Two weeks. If you would like, we can make plans to go out the minute I return."

"I'd like that. But make it the day after. You can come pick me up after school."

"It is a date."

They chatted for a little longer, desperately wishing minutes were longer than sixty seconds. Kitty soon realized that Piotr still had to pack for his trip and ended the conversation. She watched Rogue with blank eyes as she came in and out of the room several times. She curled up on her bed with her phone in hand, falling asleep in her clothes.

* * *

A cool breeze snapped the tail of Gambit's trench coat as he moved along the side of the mansion. Sure, he could have snuck through the house to Professor Xavier's study, but what fun was that?

He tested the window: unlocked. Remy loved that no locked their upper story windows. 

A single desk lamp lit the room. Professor Xavier was sitting is a large cushioned chair with his back to the room. 

Remy ducked behind a curtain when he heard the professor speak. _Just my luck dat d'ey're havin' a faculty meetin'._ Xavier paused, then began speaking again. It was then that Remy noticed the curly phone cord reaching from the box on the desk around the chair. Remy stayed behind the curtain, waiting for the telepath to get off the phone or sense that someone else was in the room.

After ten minutes, the Cajun grew impatient. He walked up to the desk, not bothering to muffle his footsteps. Xavier didn't turn. Remy reached to grab the chair when it spin around on its own. Xavier, brow furrowed, motioned "one minute" to his guest and continued talking on the phone.

The Acolyte crossed his arms an waited. After learning what Xavier recommended the person on the phone to go, eat, and wear for the next week, Remy reached his limit. He touched the phone with one finger. "Say goodbye to Nancy, Joan." (5) The phone pulsed with gold energy and exploded.

With the receiver and cord still dangling from his hand, Xavier scolded Remy, "That was a business call. I have a lot to catch up on, having been comatose the last few days."

Remy squinted and rubbed his temple. "De winning lotto numbers are 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42." (6)

Professor Xavier raised his eyebrows.

"De sooner you talk to me, de sooner you can get back to your overtime."

He sighed and laid the receiver on the desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

"You talked to your former drinkin' buddy lately?"

"If you are alluding to Erik, then no, not recently."

"So you haven't heard 'bout what he did to his daughter."

Xavier lost all of his irritation for being interrupted earlier. His eyes grew with concern for his former patient, and he shook his head. Remy told him what happened that day at their former base. ". . . Mastermind told Monsieur Magneto dat he had finished de job, but I had my doubts. When I confronted him, he said dat no one but him could fix Wanda's memories wit'out setting off some sorta boobytraps in her mind. Dat right?"

Xavier furrowed his brow and folded his hands on his desk. "A telepath can set traps in a person's mind if they do not want their work tampered with. If Mastermind did that, then another telepath would have to tread very carefully through that part of her mind."

"But you're de best. If anyone can do it, you can."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, but even I may fall short. To even enter that portion of her mind would take extensive time, energy, and skill, much less restore it to its original state."

"So you're saying it's hopeless."

"Even if I was able to get past the defensives, I may not be able to fully restore Miss Maximoff's memories without some consequences."

"Sounds like hopeless to me." Remy turned to leave but remembered the rest of his conversation with Mastermind. "D'ere's one more t'ing. De fuzzy blue one interrupted Mastermind when he was removing somet'ing he called 'sensory triggers,' and he didn't finish them all."

"He didn't finish severing the sensory triggers! That could be very bad for Wanda. Like repeatedly - "

"Runnin' inta a brick wall. Yeah, that's what he said. He was supposed to finish dem yesterday, but couldn't. Wouldn't say why." Remy paused as he related more of their conversation. "He said dat de sensory trigger t'ing could be an in ta tell Wanda her memories were faked - "

"That is a very risky idea. If she triggers her memories too often, she could go into a coma."

Remy shook his head and sighed. "Parta me wished he lied."

"I feel truly sorry to confirm his testimony. I could probably cut the rest of her sensory triggers without setting off any traps."

Remy thought about Xavier's offer. "But den Mastermind would be de only one who could fix her head. We wouldn' have dat doubt to work wit'. T'ing is, I t'ink we might have a chance dat route as long as John stays around. She's been followin' him around lately. Askin' questions 'bout him. She said somet'in' real funny the other day, maybe you can make somet'in' outta it. She said dat she has feelings when he's around and doesn't have any most other times. She said bein' 'round John was like a dam of emotions broke, and she felt alive. What does dat mean?"

The professor again thought hard. "I'm not sure. It could be related to the sensory triggers. It could simply be her mind's attempt to readjust after loosing so much emotional stimuli." The older man thought for a moment, stroking his chin. "That could be something I could help her with without tampering with her memories. If she would agree to see me, no tricks or lies, I would be glad to help her. With telepathy or psychology."

Remy smirked. "Tricks and lies? Who are you talkin' to?"

"I do recall hearing some buzz about a blind date that one of the parties was unaware of."

"Technically it wasn't a blind date - "

The professor maneuvered himself into his wheelchair. "Is that all the questions you had?"

Remy nodded. "Oui."

He wheeled himself to his study door. "Please, see yourself out. I have work to do after I locate another telephone."

Remy reached in one of his pockets and pulled out a pair of giant red lips. He handed it to the professor. "It was gonna be John's goin' away present, but I'll find 'em somet'ing else."

Professor Xavier turned it over in his hands. "Uh, thank you. What is it?"

"A phone." Remy, completely satisfied with the slightly disturbed look on the man's face, saluted and opened a window.

"Oh and Remy, don't keep Rogue up too late. She does have school in the morning."

"I already talked to Rogue."

"Remy." Xavier tapped the side of his head. "Psychic."

The boy nodded, and journeyed back to Rogue's balcony to fill her in on Wanda and head home for the night.

* * *

(1) Until 1918, Russians did not use the Gregorian calendar like everyone else; they used the Julian calendar, which was something like two weeks behind the other at that time. This caused great difficulty when coordinating Allied attacks in World War I.  
(2) Referring to the color coded terrorist alerts the Bush Administration uses that mean absolutely nothing, to me anyway.  
(3) See Nine to Five: Chapter 3 - Cheeseburgers and Sugardaddies.  
(4) Remy tells Rogue in November Rain: Chapter 3 - See Spot Run, and Rogue tells Kitty in Chapter 7 - You're Not Delusional.  
(5) Referring to First Lady Nancy Reagan and her psychic Joan Quigley.  
(6) Reoccurring numbers on the TV show _Lost_. Hurley (the best character on the show) won the lotto playing those numbers and has had horrible luck since.

Next up: Rogue meets someone that helps her with an important decision, and Wanda gives her dad the what for!


	13. You're Touchy Today

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's. Although Ania (inspired by ishandahalf) and the other miscellaneous coffee humans are mine.

* * *

**A/N:** Be prepared for the longest chapter in November Rain to date! Thank Skysong if you like the Marader's bit. I was going to cut it, but she thought I should keep it in. Oh, and don't forget to say 'bye to Ania. I don't think she'll be appearing again for a long time :(

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Thirteen: You're Touchy Today**

It was hectic in the coffee shop on Front Street, but Rogue didn't mind. She found herself a loveseat by the door and curled up. She pulled a magazine out of her backpack but before she started reading a familiar face waltzed in.

Ania waved and walked over. "Rogue! Hi! I was beginning to wonder if you gave up coffee."

"No way. Just busy."

A teasing glint appeared in Ania's eye. "Busy with what? Or should I say who?"

Rogue groaned. "Ya're worse than Kitty."

Ania jumped up and down and clapped. "You did call him! Finally. Don't get me wrong. I'm all for milking a guy when he does something wrong, but your cow was getting pretty dry."

"That's disgustin'."

She tilted her head. "But true."

Another employee of Izzy's came over and stood between them. He faced Ania, raised his arms, then turned his head to Rogue. "Careful, Miss, this lady is deadly."

Ania let her head fall in her hand. She knew her co-worker was joking, but it was getting old. "Not this again. I did not kill anyone."

The man in the apron continued to talk to Rogue. "Don't let this girl fool you with her innocent face. She's a mutant with the power to make people die of seemingly natural causes. She is responsible for two deaths and one near-death that took place here at Izzy's."

"Two? There was the one business guy who had the heart attack- who shouldn't have even been drinking coffee in the first place, he was so high-strung- and one girl fainted. Who else did I 'kill'?"

"The guy in the bathroom."

"I wasn't even here that night!"

"But you were the last one to clean the bathroom."

The coffee wench groaned. "Drop it, or I'll clean your bathroom next."

The coffee guy stood down but warned Rogue one last time. "Seriously, Miss. Be careful. You can't trust her. She's a mu - "

"Mutant," Rogue finished his sentence with disdain. She was a little angry at the way the guy was using that word. "Bein' a mutant myself, Ah think Ah can handle it. An' if she looks at meh funny," she took off one of her gloves and reached out within inches of touching his bare arm, "Ah can always touch her skin, knockin' her out an' stealin' her powers an' her memories."

The guy's face lost his playful smile. He backed up and raised his hands in defense. "Sorry, man. It was just a joke."

Rogue remained cold as she put her glove back on. "Real funny. Ah'm laughin' on the inside."

With nothing left to say, the man in the apron retreated back to the safety of his counter.

Ania eyed her friend. "You're touchy today."

Rogue wouldn't look her in the eye. Instead she looked at the magazine in her lap. "That's the one thing Ah'm not."

Ania would not relent. "Bad day at school?"

"Aren't they all?"

Ania looked at one of Sly's watches, now on her wrist. "Look. I have to go punch in. I'll come back on my break, and you can vent your stinky, teenage, high school air."

Rogue looked up, feeling a little ashamed about her bitterness. "Thanks, but Ah might not be here. Ah'm meetin' Wanda, an' Ah don't know if we're stayin'."

Ania brightened with concern. "How is she? Better, obviously, since she's not in the hospital. What was wrong with her, anyhow?"

Rogue was taken aback. "Hospital?"

"Didn't she tell you? She was the girl that fainted here on Saturday. I tried calling her smarmy brother after I got off, but he barely told me anything. The douche wouldn't even let me talk to her!"

Rogue, once clueless, was now worried. "Ah haven't talked with Wanda since we decided to meet here last week." _What if she triggered her memories and went into a coma? Or catatonic? Or crazy? What's with the c's?_

Ania shifted her weight awkwardly. "Oh. Well, she fainted here on Saturday, went to the hospital, but got to come home that night according to said smarmy brother. I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she gets here. I really gotta go now. The tortoise is passing me." Rogue nodded, and Ania ran to punch in.

With nothing to do but wait, Rogue took a sip of her coffee and flipped open the magazine in her lap. It was the _Mutant Zine_. She had felt weird reading the article on gene therapy at the mansion. Like by doing so she was betraying something.

The thing was, she couldn't stop thinking about it. After every meeting with Remy, she wanted to pull it out and to make sure it was true. That it was possible. That there was hope if Xavier couldn't help her control her powers. That there was hope that her relationship with Remy would last past the point when he decided he wanted more.

She had thought about calling the M.D. listed in the article. She Googled him and found out that his office and laboratory was located just outside New York City. Only a train ride away. But something stopped her from making the call every time. Rogue got this gut feeling that there was something she was missing, and wondered if she could really trust the promises and the testimonies. She lifted the magazine and read the article again.

A deep voice with a slight French accent broke her from her trance. "You've got to be kidding me! I can't believe you're actually reading that."

Rogue realized the strange man with the dark, wind-blown hair and silver-dyed tips was talking to her and looked up. "Excuse meh?"

The stranger spoke again. "You are only feeding my sister's vanity. And that is the one thing on her that is fat enough."

Rogue raised her eyebrow and followed the man's gaze to the cover of _MZ_. "Jeanne-Marie's your sister?"

"Don't remind me."

The corner of Rogue's mouth turned up in amusement. "Don't get along?"

"Not currently."

The goth realized that she was not only talking to a fellow mutant, but one that had undergone the gene therapy. She had a chance to get the real scoop on it. She had to keep him talking. "Why's that?"

The French-Canadian's unzipped winter coat flapped open as he sat down across from Rogue. "You're an only child, non?"

"Once. Now Ah live in a house full o' teenage mutants."

The man looked confused. "Parents kick you out?"

Rogue shook her head. "No, it's a school. Supposed ta help teach us ta control our powers. So we don' hurt people." Rogue looked down at her gloved hands.

He looked skeptical. "Does it work?"

Rogue's eyes stayed on her hands. "Fo' some of us."

"Not for you." Silence fell between them. "You want to ask me about it, don't you?"

She played dumb when she looked up. "'bout what?"

The guy crossed his arms and played her game. "My sexuality."

"What? Gay? Really?"

"Really, really."

Rogue blushed. "An' here Ah thought ya were flirtin' with meh. Ah was beginnin ta think Ah was attractive only ta men with French-type accents (1)."

"Your boyfriend's French?"

"Cajun. Not sure if Ah can really call him mah boyfriend. We just started datin' officially."

"Stop being modest and politically correct. It's sickening."

Rogue extended her hand. "Ah'm Rogue."

The French-Canadian flinched before taking it. "Jean-Paul."

"What brings ya here, Jean-Paul? Ya don't seem like the type ta be tourin' small, boring, non-descript towns like Bayville."

Jean-Paul leaned back and ran his hand through his hair. "You're going to drag this out, non? I'm beginning to think you're the one attracted to men with French-type accents."

"Ya're almost as good at avoidin' questions as Ah am."

"Not worried about making your boyfriend jealous?"

Rogue shook her head. "He's not really a jealous kinda guy."

"Every guy is jealous. And insecure. Some hide it better than others."

"Ya're here 'cause of a guy, aren't ya?"

"Oui, a dumb one at that. Claimed Bayville had great skiing in the mountains (2). Should have known better than to trust an American. They always claim to have the best of everything, then disappoint."

Rogue laughed. "Ya really like him, don't ya?"

"Not as much as pie (3)."

Rogue didn't have any response to that strange remark. After a few seconds of silence, she gave in. Holding up the magazine she asked, "So this Essex guy the real deal?"

"He's too good at what he does," said Jean-Paul. "I hadn't gone to a family function in years, ever since my sister and I figured out that along with our superspeed and flight, we would blind anyone in a half-mile radius when we got within ten or twenty feet of each other. She called me on the phone one day and after a couple months of visits and tests, we could have coffee together."

"Did it hurt at all?"

"I had a headache for a week! After listening to my sister talk about her modeling career for three hours, I wanted to fly into a windmill. And not the nice, wooden, Don Quixote kind. At least when we talked over the phone I could lay the receiver down and give myself a manicure. I blame our powers for giving her an obsession with bright, flashing lights. I spent the next week convincing her not to tell the rest of the family so I would still have my excuse for not going to the reunion. Didn't work, spiteful minx."

She was not amused. "Ah meant the tests."

Jean-Paul shrugged. "Poke here, prod there. He puts you under once or twice for the invasive stuff. I was sore for a few days. You aren't claustrophobic, are you?" Rogue shook her head. "Can't see you having any problems then."

The goth shifted her eyes. "Ah don't know. Kinda feels like playin' with God."

After an exaggerated eye roll and sigh, Jean-Paul asked, "And what is he doing with us?" Rogue still looked skeptical, so he leaned forward and continued. "Look at it this way: Is it 'playing God' when a blind person gets surgery so they can see? Is it 'playing God' to make synthetic antibiotics or limbs? How about a transplant? God gave us these brains and the means to use them. How can you shun the gift when it'll make your life better, eh?"

While she was considering his argument, someone tapped on the window near Rogue. She turned and saw Wanda motioning her to come outside.

Rogue stuffed the magazine in her bag and stood up. "Sorry, don' mean ta be rude, but mah friend's here, and Ah gotta go. Ah . . Ah can't thank ya enough for talkin' ta meh 'bout this."

"No problem. I hope you make the right choice."

Rogue nodded and ran to catch her friend.

Jean-Paul watched her disappear from his view. His finger traced the patch of a girl's face on his green wristband and smiled.

* * *

Outside Izzy's, Wanda didn't get a chance to verbally greet her friend before Rogue asked, "Why didn't ya tell meh ya were in the hospital?" 

"You need a play-by-play on my life?"

"Ya were in the hospital. It's not like Ah wanna know how many times ya brush your teeth."

"It wasn't a big deal."

"What's wrong? What happened ta ya?"

"I had a migraine. The doctor said that the headaches I've been having lately were migraines, and I need to go on medication. I'm on painkillers until my appointment with the specialist next week."

"Does he knows what caused it?"

"No. It could have been anything under the sun. The doctor suspected it was allergies."

Rogue breathed a sigh of relief. "Allergies. That's good."

Rogue's reaction puzzled Wanda. She eyed the X-Man suspiciously. "What's good about it?"

The goth froze like a deer in headlights. _Did Ah say too much_? "Allergies are better than a tumor o' somethin'. . ."

The witch remained skeptic for another moment before accepting Rogue's answer. "I suppose."

Rogue shifted her weight and thumbed the front entrance to Izzy's. "Ya wanna go in an' get some coffee?"

Wanda shook her head. "The smell was bothering me on Saturday. Doctor thought it might be one of my allergies."

Her friend's voice was full of sympathy. "No coffee? Maybe ya shoulda gone with the tumor. Ice cream got anythin' against you?"

"It's barely forty degrees." Rogue was unfazed by Wanda's revelation. "Scoops it is," declared Wanda.

They walked in silence for a bit before Rogue ventured a question. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

In an attempt to deflect the conversation from herself, Wanda asked, "Who were you drinking coffee with?"

Rogue wasn't phased. "A gay skier."

"Gay? Damn, why are all the good-looking ones gay?"

"O' have more issues than ya can shake a stick at."

"Or make it a point to ignore your existence," Wanda added without thinking.

Rogue eyed her suspiciously. "Ya talkin' 'bout someone specific?"

Wanda looked away from Rogue to the street. "No."

"Liar. Is that what's wrong with ya today?"

Wanda's reply was sharp. "No."

Rogue was not convinced. "Ah know ya've been feelin' funny lately. Maybe ya should see someone 'bout it. The professor - "

"You think I need a _psychiatrist_?" Wanda had no idea why the idea upset her so much. Especially when so few things did.

The goth took a second and chose her words carefully. "Ah don' think it'll hurt."

"That's where you're wrong," Wanda replied, again unsure of the origin of her words. She dug her hand in her pocket and pulled out a small brown bottle.

Rogue was also surprised at Wanda's resistance to the idea. "What do ya mean?"

Wanda poured two pills into her hand. Then she snatched the coffee cup from Rogue's hand and used it to wash them down. The witch was courteous enough to return the empty cup to her friend. "I don't know; I'm not going; so stop asking."

Rogue showed her insult in her voice. "Fine." She looked down into her empty coffee cup. "Doesn' it defeat the purpose o' the painkillers ta wash them down with what's causin' the problem?"

"Shut up." A few silent steps later, she added, "Considering it was mostly backwash, it tasted really good."

Rogue smiled. "Quittin' coffee cold turkey has some awful withdrawal, don' it?"

Wanda felt a little better with the smidgen of caffeine running through her system. "You really want to know what's got me upset?"

"Ya mean it wasn' all caffeine withdrawal?"

"No, my father."

Rogue held her breath. _Is she startin' ta suspect somethin'? Maybe Ah should just come out an' tell her? Remy thought we might be able ta convince her soon, if she an' John keep runnin' inta each other. But if Ah say somethin' too soon, it could ruin our chances later._

Before Rogue could decide what to do, the witch continued her story, "He won't let me go on the mission with the boys. He thinks I'm too unstable. Can't risk me screwing something up."

"Hold up. The rest of Brotherhood is goin', but not ya? Ah think your dad's missin' some steps in his screw-up equation."

Wanda snorted. "Ever witness the 'Uncle Buck game'?"

"When they stick stuff ta the ceilin'?"

Wanda nodded. "It's evolved."

The other shook her head. "Ah'm not askin' how."

"When did you lose your curiosity?"

"Ah like ta think Ah'm more cautious with mah curiosity. When did ya lose your backbone?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Your daddy grounds ya 'cause ya got a headache, an' ya're takin' it."

"He's my father. What am I supposed to do?"

Rogue felt a pain inside. She couldn't believe she was explaining this to the hardcore, "don't mess with me" Scarlet Witch. "Ya're not a kid anymore. Ya don' have ta follow your dad blindly. Ya wanna go on the mission, then go. Sneak down, disobey him, or give him a piece o' your mind. Ya got options. Especially since Colossus and Mastermind are out now."

She hadn't heard the news. "They're out?"

"Yep, Kitty's been mopin' all day. Buckethead sent them ta Russia last night fo' a two-week vacation to find Petey's brother."

_Two of the most competent players out on vacation? If they didn't need me before, they definitely need me now. How does Father expect to pull this off successfully three people short? Someone will get caught. Or worse. Not to mention the mission. _ "I'm going," she said. "And it will be one helluvah show."

Rogue nervously played with her gloves. "Don' make it too flashy, o' the X-Men might have ta come by an' break it up."

The witch shrugged. "Your funeral."

Rogue sighed and walked in thought for a second before she spoke. "Ah'm tryin' not ta learn anythin' 'bout this mission, but Ah can't help askin' if Ah'll regret keepin' quiet."

Wanda looked over her shoulder to see Rogue's face. "No, you won't. X-Men would probably do the job if they wanted to get their hands dirty once in a while."

Rogue stopped walking. "What does that mean?"

A few steps later, Wanda turned to her stationary friend. "It means that you X-Men keep yourself out of the murkiness of war to retain your 'good' image."

The southern goth popped her hip and put her hand on it. "Excuse meh?"

"You're excused. I think you wouldn't object to a loss of image if you saw the greater goal, but the X-Men as a team, that's another story."

The X-Man threw her arms in the air. "We're persecuted all the time fo' blurrin' the law!"

"But the X-Men always come out smelling like a rose. Rather quickly, too. Do you know what happened to the instigators of the protest at Vinyl Vintage? No? That's because my father took care of the leaders. He even did it nicely this time. One lost his business and his money, and the others are trying not to drop the soap."

Rogue felt something a little different about his actions. "Ah can't believe he did that! He's the one that had the place burnt ta the ground!"

"He had to protect his people, whether they wanted it or not."

"Ya're okay with the fact he had Vinyl Vintage torched?"

"No, the music stores around here suck."

The former employee rolled her eyes. "Well, that's reassurin'." Returning to their previous subject, Rogue shook her head. "Gettin' rid o' those people doesn' solve the problem."

Wanda agreed. "Sure, it's still early. More will pop up to replace them, but eventually they'll learn."

Now Rogue was getting red in the face. "Problem still there. The _fear _is still there!"

A blustery wind gave the witch motivation to call a truce. "Look, we've argued about this before. Let's just agree to disagree and go freeze our insides to match our outsides."

"Fine," Rogue huffed and brushed past the witch. They walked the rest of the way several steps ahead of each other.

Rogue was glad she didn't say anything about the memories. It was definitely too early. Wanda still held a glorified image of her father. _Ah'm sure a couple more weeks o' gettin' ta know him will change that. _It was true that the issue was something they didn't see eye-to-eye on, but before Wanda never defended her father's activities. If anything, they would poke fun at his paranoia and loosely tied strings between mutant haters, oppressionists, and human lovers.

The pair reached Scoops Sundae Shoppe. They walked in separately, but by the time they got their ice cream, both had calmed down enough to sit next to each other.

Rogue looked across the table at the witch. She was pushing the ice cream around her in bowl as if she were studying it. Or listening to it. As Rogue watched she wondered: How much could a set of new childhood memories affect a person? Did she really know Wanda at all anymore?

Rogue snapped her head down when Wanda caught her staring. Rogue thought about what Remy had told her the night before, and how Wanda had been acting lately. Wanda could see she herself was lost; everyone could. Rogue was able to call out the old Wanda when she helped her decide to stand up to her father about the mission. That was how she could keep helping her. The best way to help Wanda find herself was to be there. Point out when she was letting this fake sense of loyalty to her father guide her decisions. Wanda might not always know how she felt, but Rogue knew her well enough to make an educated guess. And there was one more thing that puzzled her about the way Wanda was acting.

Pretending to concentrate on getting the perfect mix of hot fudge and chocolate ice cream on her spoon, Rogue spoke up. "So why are ya really so desperate ta go on this mission?"

Awaken from a hazy daydream of overturned couches, Wanda looked up from her cookie dough ice cream with wide eyes (4). "What?"

"Why do ya wanna go so bad?"

"I want to prove that I'm capable. I want to stand up for my people." The witch's tone sounded rehearsed.

"Yeah, Ah know that's the text book answer ya're gonna give your dad, but what's the real reason?"

Wanda's eyes narrowed, insulted. "Sounds like you already have a theory."

Rogue smirked. "St. John's goin'."

Wanda violently stabbed her ice cream with her spoon. "Remy told you, didn't he?"

"Told meh what?"

"Stop playing dumb."

"Remy didn' say anythin' ya should be embarrassed 'bout," Rogue replied truthfully.

"Of course, he wouldn't be embarrassed. He stalks people all the time!"

Rogue smiled at her successful retrieval of information. "Ya were stalking John?"

"Shit."

"Spill."

"Nothing to spill."

"That the problem?"

Wanda threw down her spoon and pushed her bowl away from her. "I just don't get it. He's not special. He isn't even my type."

"Didn' realize ya had a type."

"I do." Wanda racked her brain to describe her "type" but came up with nothing. "Well, maybe I don't, but I know it's not him."

"How can ya be so sure? Ah mean, ya were stalkin' him after all."

Wanda pulled her ice cream back toward her and began mutilating it with her spoon again. "He's a funny-looking foreigner who pisses off everyone and ignores me. He reeks of cigarettes and is moodier than you with PMS, no offense. Last time I talked to him he was wallowing in self-pity, but I couldn't help but care. I actually wanted to make him feel better. I wanted - "

"To rip off all his clothes?" Rogue teasingly finished.

"No! Well . . . "

Rogue laughed. "Ya can tell meh."

Wanda leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Then you'll tell your honey bunny, and he'll tell John."

"'Honey bunny'? Ya really need ta get outta that house more often. Ya're pickin' up Toad's nicknames."

Wanda's jaw dropped. "Please put me out of my misery."

"Ya're gonna have ta talk ta John 'bout that. Ah hear he's real good at makin' miserable people have fun."

Wanda looked at her questionably. "From who?"

The goth turned to the remnants of her dessert. "Remy, who else?"

"Now you're the liar. Tell me about his ex-girlfriend."

She continued to scrape the bottom of the bowl to get the last bit. "Why do ya want ta know 'bout her? She's pretty much outta the picture."

"I remind him of her, and I want to know why. Remy knows but won't tell me, insufferable chocolate-coated loser (5). But I have a feeling that you know."

Rogue shook her hair out of her face and gave Wanda her most honest expression. "Sorry, sugar, but Ah don' know any more than Ah already told ya."

The goth could tell that Wanda wasn't completely buying it. Surprisingly, she let the lie pass. "You're right. Doesn't matter anyway. I'm not her." Her voice sounded a little disappointed.

Rogue leaned forward. "Ya know, that doesn' mean he doesn' like ya."

Wanda rolled her eyes and looked away. "Right. Because you ignore people you like."

Rogue shook her head. "He's scared. He doesn' want ta get hurt again."

"I don't want to be a rebound."

"Believe meh, ya won' be," she said matter-of-factly.

Wanda considered what Rogue was saying. She shifted awkwardly in her chair, then looked at her friend with a little fear in her eyes. "What should I do?"

"First, tell your dad off an' get back on this mission. Then, when ya're down there, hang out with him. Talk with him. If that doesn' work, jump him in the men's room (6). Oh, an' don' forget ta pack a lot of revealin' clothes an' your best underwear - "

Wanda was not amused by Rogue's jokes. "You want me to seduce Remy while I'm at it? I'm sure with all my sexy underwear it wouldn't be too hard."

Rogue, surprisingly, was not phased by the comment about her boyfriend's fidelity. "Ya're forgettin' Todd will be there. Can't go showin' everyone your panties."

Wanda sighed at her defeat. "You've certainly grown more confident with your relationship with Remy." Rogue shrugged. A light bulb went off above the witch's head. "I just realized who I'm taking relationship advice from: The cat lady who prided herself on her utensil throwing capabilities."

The goth blushed and shrugged again. Her thoughts ran back to her meeting with Jean-Paul and Essex's genetic therapy treatments. She was going to do it. She was going to call and get an appointment. Rogue stood up and disposed of her bowl. "The world's a strange place. Full o' surprises."

A scrutinizing glare from Wanda was followed by another revelation. "You're hiding something."

Rogue's eyes twinkled. "Maybe."

Wanda tilted her head in disbelief. "I just confessed that I have the hots for a bipolar pyromaniac, and you're not going to tell me your little secret?"

Rogue shook her head. "Don' know if it's anythin' yet. Gotta check it out first." The witch, still sitting, crossed her arms and glared. Rogue rolled her eyes. "Ah promise, if somethin' actually happens, an' Ah actually have some news, ya'll be the first one Ah call."

After a few more seconds of glaring, Wanda stood up. "Fine. But if Remy or Kitty know first," Wanda dragged a finger across her neck, "'off with your heads.' All of them."

"Give meh fair warnin' so Ah can tap Logan before, eh?"

"Why should I do that?"

"'Cause ya'll be in a good mood with an Aussie tied up in your closet (7)."

Wanda raised her eyebrow and hexed open the door. "You think I'm inta that?"

Rogue smirked. "Ah know ya like it kinky."

* * *

When Magneto heard someone walk up to his office door, he used his powers to lock it and returned to his phone conversation. When the door started to melt from the top down, Magneto ended his conversation. "We'll continue this later. I have to discipline my subjects." He put down the receiver and stood up. "Pyro! - " 

In reply, Magneto was thrown back into his leather chair by a bolt of blue energy. "Wanda?"

"I'm the Scarlet Witch," she announced with authority. She hexed the chair, moving it around the desk and spinning it upward so he was sitting at her height. "I am the most powerful mutant you have on your teams. I have control of my powers," all the lamps in his office brightened and faded, "and I am perfectly fit to go on the mission to Florida. I believe in the mission, and I want to ensure that the juice factory goes down."

The master of magnetism sighed quietly when he realized that Wanda had not regained her memories. Afterward, his face grew stern. "I said that my word on this was final."

Wanda tilted her head. A confidence she hadn't felt before flowed through her. She was whole. She smiled; John wasn't even around. She really didn't need him. Then she realized that she was thinking of him. Even though he wasn't present, the thought of them spending time together was what gave her the charge she needed to confront her father. Wanda mentally shrugged. _I'll take what I can get the way emotions go_.

Wanda took a step back. "I'm saying it wasn't. And with only half of the current team being remotely competent, you'll need me. You'll regret not allowing me go."

This was entirely embarrassing for Magneto. Not only was he being badgered by his teenage daughter, but she was right. He, Sabertooth, and Gambit had gone over scenarios all night long and had not come up with a decent plan without one more person. They thought they had it at one point, but then realized that one of Sabertooth's marshmallows had wandered onto the floor plans, giving them an extra man. What was sadder was that that was Sabertooth's most worthwhile contribution of the planning session.

Even though she was right, he had to appear the victor of the situation. He had to regain control. "Put me down, Wanda."

"Why?"

"Put me down, and we'll talk about this."

The Scarlet Witch obliged and found herself sitting in one of Magneto's metal guest chairs.

The master of magnetism clasped his hands behind his back and passed behind his desk. "Unfortunately, you are correct, Wanda. This mission will not be entirely successful unless we have one more person on the team. If I was approaching you as your boss, I would insist you go." He stopped walking and faced her. "But I'm also your father. And as your father, I worry about your safety. I do not want you going."

Wanda stood up. "You can't protect me. You don't need to protect me. I'm going."

Magneto sighed. "Very well. But please, be careful, Wanda. I care about you more than the others. If something were to happen to you on this mission, I would never forgive myself."

"Nothing will happen to me, Father. It'll be okay."

Magneto led his daughter to the doorway of his office. "You had better get back to the Brotherhood house and start packing."

Wanda nodded and stepped over what was left of his door. "Sorry about your door."

Magneto smiled and waved it off. "It unfortunately happens alot. Take care of yourself, Daughter."

Wanda nodded and left. Magneto opened his closet door and pulled out some extra sheets of metal. He manipulated the melted and new metal together to make another door. Pushing his leather chair back to his desk, he smiled. He not only saved the upcoming mission, but he had managed to keep a good relationship with his daughter. Parenting wasn't that hard. The best part was, although he was manipulating her to do what he wanted, he felt his words were true.

* * *

Having learned about the elevator on the way in, Wanda decided to take the stairs down to the ground floor (8). As she heaved the fire door, she heard someone yelling and banging down the hallway. Curious, Wanda followed the noise until she came to a small kitchen. 

There stood St. John, with at least three pencils staying up magically in his orange hair, opening and slamming cupboards. When he heard the door open, he spoke without looking. "Remy, glad you're done early. Where the hell did you put the bloody - " The Aussie turned and saw a black-and-red haired witch instead of a trench coat wearing Cajun. He grew nervous and started playing with his lighter in his pocket. "Oh, sorry, thought you were Remy."

Remembering Rogue's advice, Wanda continued the conversation. "That who I remind you of?"

John chuckled, a little more at ease. "Nope. You smell better."

"Thanks?"

John, rarely ever to keep his mouth shut, started babbling. "Any time. How did you get in here, anyway? Magneto still listing his secret headquarters in the phonebook (9)?" John didn't realize his slip until after the fact.

"Magic."

John winked unintentionally. "With you that's a given."

Wanda didn't think anything of John's slip, but more of his wink. To block her blush she exhaled quickly and spoke unemotionally. "Father subscribes to the _Wall Street Journal_. I pretended I was his secretary checking on the change of address."

"Oh. Not as exciting as magic."

Silence fell between them. John, after his first slip, didn't want to say anything more in case she asked about it. Wanda simply didn't know how to act since she finally accepted that she was, indeed, attracted to the Aussie.

"You're usually more talkative," Wanda said.

John looked down at his hands and nodded. "I'm writing see. All my creative juices are waiting for me back in my room."

"You write?"

"Yep."

"You need three pencils to write?"

"Yep, and a typewritter. One pencil's for channeling, one for editing, and one for fun." He smiled. "The typerwriter was my grandpapa's. Not all the keys work. In fact I think the only thing holding it together is love." He chuckled nervously. He was surprised at how this conversation about his writing differed from the first one they had (10).

"What do you write?" Wanda prided herself on her small talk, hoping it would lead to bigger and better things. Or at least something more entertaining.

"Stuff."

"Could you be more vague?" Wanda said, although it felt like it was the second time (11).

"Yes, if I tried really hard," John replied. He was also struck of deja vu, although he knew why.

"Can I at least read it?"

"NO!" John almost knocked her back with his exclamation. He continued in what Jason would call an inside voice. "No one reads it. Not 'til the draft's done, anyway."

"Oh."

Again came the silence. Wanda played with the buttons on her coat, shifting her weight back and forth. John continue to play with the safety on his lighter.

They both started speaking at once, then stopped. Then John started again. "I should be getting back. Can't let the creative juices get cold."

Disappointed, Wanda agreed. "Probably not."

John backed out of the kitchen, waving awkwardly. "Bye."

Wanda left the kitchen the way she came in. In the hallway, she sighed and leaned up against the wall. "That went well." She pushed off and exited the warehouse to start packing. _Tomorrow is another day._

* * *

Still occupying Jean-Paul's body, Malice threw her duffle bag on the floor of the rec room. There was a large television, a few chairs and sofas, as well as a pool table and dart board in the back. All it was missing was a bar, as the adults on the team repeatedly pointed out. It was not a very happening spot unless _MASH_ was on. _MASH_ was the only show everyone seemed to agree upon and not try to decapitate each other for the remote control over. 

Malice leaned over the back of the sofa and greeted Scrambler, the room's only other occupant. "Hey, kid. You're back early. Your testimony not go well?"

The Korean boy slouched further into the couch cushions. "The redhead was a hard sell. She said I was creepy and gave me a not-so-fond farewell." He rubbed the back of head.

"You should put some ice on that." She heard someone walk by the room. "Hey, Half-wit! Get some ice."

"Get it yourself, she-witch!" he yelled back down the hallway.

"It's for Eggs, Fool." Her team leader grumbled but performed the errand. He may have hated Malice with the fire of a thousand suns, but everyone loved Scrambled Eggs. Nonetheless, he made sure to slice some holes in Malice's duffle back before he left the room.

Malice turned her attention to the kid. "You went with your usual tactic of obvious stalking and smiling sweetly when she turned to look at you, didn't you?"

"Should I put it under review?"

"It's only worked once, Eggs. I think it's time."

A thin man in a shiny shirt and an even more reflective face burst into the room. "You're dead, Malice!"

Jean-Paul's body easily dodged the laser beam of light Prism directed at it and grabbed him from behind. After pinning Prism's arms behind his back, Malice asked, "What's one of the few rules I live by?"

Prism wiggled and whined. "Don't touch your weed?"

"Not the one I was thinking of."

"Never take advantage of your bodies without your permission?"

"The one involving threats on my life."

"Oh! 'If you're going to try and kill me, give me a clue as to why first.'"

"You got it."

"You said he was gay!"

"Who?"

"The guy on the list. You wrote: Scott Summers, uncontrolled optic blasts from his eyes blah, blah, blah, preppy and the gayest guy at Bayville High."

Malice laughed. "I didn't mean homosexual. I gleaned that gay comment from the Brotherhood guy. The two don't get along too well. I figured the connotation was clear in the next sentence when I mentioned his girlfriend, the telepath."

Malice's grip on Prism loosened as she let her laughter flow unrestrained. He broke free and jabbed a pointy crystalline finger at her. "_Gay _should not be used at a derogatory term! You, of all people! And plenty of closeted homosexuals have girlfriends." He crossed his arms and pouted.

Malice mocked him with fake sympathy. "You wanted to be his first, huh? Got a thing for underage preppies?"

Prism put his figure in her face again, but did not get a word in before Malice broke off his finger using the momentum of her superspeed. "Give it back!"

She smiled and flew across the room. "Prism likes preppies, Prism likes preppies," she taunted.

"Scrambler, help me out here," the crystalline mutant requested.

Scrambler stood up. "Watch it, to the left she likes to veer."

"Sure, help the queer," Malice beaten, tossed the index finger at the whiny mutant. The Korean boy rejoiced that Malice was playing his rhyming game and hoped she'd sit down and continue.

* * *

Returning to the Institute, Rogue was in a good mood. She called Essex's office from a pay phone in the city, and they had just had a cancellation for tomorrow afternoon. Rogue would have to skip her last class, but it wouldn't be the first time. It was only an informational meeting. She would get to meet the doctor, some of his staff, and tour the facilities. As nervous as she was earlier that same day, she was now looking forward to it. Freedom from the prison of her own body. A chance to have a real relationship. 

Loud banging came from the garage. Knowing the care that most everyone handled their vehicles with, Rogue knew something was up. After her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the space, she made out Scott, hitting some things together on the work bench.

Scott jumped when Rogue spoke. "Ah think the pipe learned its lesson."

"Oh, hey, Rogue. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Had some coffee an' ice cream in town. What's goin' on here?"

Scott turned back to his "project". "I haven't a clue." He threw it into a pile of miscellaneous parts in a dark corner. Scott took a deep breath and looked at Rogue with one of his most serious faces. "Rogue, do I come off as gay?"

The goth could not help but laugh out loud. Scott looked a little hurt. He stared at the ground and wiped his greasy hands on a rag.

When Rogue could breathe normally, she answered him. "No. Ya don' come off as gay. What brought this about?"

"This strange guy was flirting with me today. He recognized me from when we were on TV. He was obviously a mutant- I mean his face was crystal like one of those little trinket things Kitty likes. I thought he wanted to talk about Xavier's. Then he started touching my shoulder and my face. . . it really freaked me out."

Rogue laughed again. "That'll teach ya fo' bein' friendly."

Scott shook his head. "I'm not homophobic either, am I?"

"Scott, when it comes ta the way people are born, ya're one o' the most acceptin' guys Ah know."

Scott smiled. "Thanks, Rogue. That means a lot."

Being in such a good mood, Rogue saw another opportunity to do a good deed. "Since Ah got ya here, Ah've been meanin' ta ask ya somethin'."

Scott retrieved a canister of car polish and a rag. "What's that?"

"Why are ya bein' such a dick ta Jean?"

Abruptly the X-Man turned to his car and started the Karate Kid motions. "Don't want to talk about it."

"Well, ya're gonna hear it anyway."

"She left me locked up for three days! She couldn't trust me! She's my best friend, and she couldn't trust me."

"It had nothin' ta do with trust. She was protectin' everyone. Couldn' take a chance o' anyone else gettin' hurt. Ya woulda done the same thing."

"No, I wouldn't."

"Be honest. Professor out cold, mansion security breached, and Jean on tape attackin' the professor."

"I wouldn't."

"Except ya wouldn' have been able ta do what she did. She spent every spare minute gettin' the third degree from ya or tryin' ta figure out a way ta be sure it was safe ta let you out. She was really scared to use her telepathy to wake the professor up, but she did it fo' ya. She was scared she'd have another power surge and go crazy again if she used her telepathy without the professor's help. But she did. She went through a lot of shit while ya were mopin'. She doesn't deserve ta be treated like this."

Scott continued to wax his car. "You finished?"

Rogue left without saying goodbye. She just hoped some of her speech seeping through his thick skull.

* * *

Later that evening, Jean was studying in Storm's conservatory when she heard the attic door squeak open. "It's just me, Storm." The redhead looked out into the other room. She was surprised to see Scott standing there. 

"You're a hard person to find," he said.

Jean decided to dish back some of his cold shoulder. "So you're talking to me again." She returned to her books in the conservatory; Scott followed.

"I had a really weird day today, and I wanted to tell my best friend about it, but I wasn't sure if she was my friend anymore."

"That depends on you, Scott."

"Why couldn't you trust me?"

"I did. I told you. If it was just me in the mansion, I would have let you out in a heartbeat. But I have to watch out for all the new mutants now, too. Amara was freaked out. We shouldn't have to be frightened to live in our own home. That's why I waited until the professor woke up."

"You woke him up, you mean."

"Yes, I woke him up."

"Rogue told me you were scared."

"Yes, I was. But I had to do it. I couldn't let you rot down there forever."

He replied sincerely, "Thanks." Scott turned to leave.

Jean called him back. "Are things okay between us now?"

Scott looked over his shoulder. "They're getting there. I still have some things to work out on my own."

Jean nodded. Right before he got out of earshot, Jean called him back. "I had a weird day, too." Scott walked back into the conservatory and sat down on an overturned pot. Jean continued, "This strange little Asian boy keep following me around and smiling when I'd look at him. And whenever I asked him a question, his answer would rhyme."

"Creepy."

* * *

(1) Rogue and Jean-Paul kissed once in the comics when Rogue thought she was cured and before he came out.  
(2) In the comics, Jean-Paul was a professional skier for a while.  
(3) Allusion to E.E. Skysong's "The Cafe" (please continue it soon! I want to read some Maximoff twins-St. John love triangle!)  
(4) All the way back in Nine to Five, Chapter 7: An Interlude with Ice Cream, Wanda and St. John ate chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream while bonding and righting furniture Wanda had knocked over earlier.  
(5) Wanda melted chocolate on Remy in Chapter 8: Listen to Me.  
(6) Which is exactly what Wanda did in Nine to Five, Chapter 11: Love is in the Air.  
(7) Nod to Valoofle's "Hostage" which shows great Jonda promise.  
(8) The elevator doesn't exactly work well as shown in Chapter 5: Gone Crazy, Be Back Later.  
(9) Wanda found Magneto's boondocks base by hexing a phone book in Nine To Five, Chapter 6: I Always Figured You Liked it Kinky.  
(10) First time John told Wanda he wrote was in Nine To Five, Chapter 18: I'm a Dead Cat Too.  
(11) That's because it is. She asked him that in Nine To Five, Chapter 18: I'm a Dead Cat Too. 

**A/N**: Any ideas for what I should call Essex's clinic? I'm usually great at names, but I'm drawing a blank on this one.


	14. My Eyes Only

**A/N**: Sorry this chapter was so long in the works. I've had some not so happy things going on in my life. Real life really sucks sometimes. So without any further ado:  
**  
Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Fourteen: My Eyes Only**

There were no bright eyes or bushy tails at the train station, even though it was 10:30 am. According to most of the party, that was still two hours too early. Especially since they had spent have the night repacking their suitcases after Pietro replaced the contents with his own wardrobe and grooming products. The other two spent half the night. . . well, they didn't exactly remember much more than some fleeting memories of broken chair legs, a fur coat, and bubble gum, not necessarily in that order.

Sitting on a wooden bench, Wanda clung to her bag as her eyes drooped. Across from her, Todd squatted on a broken bench courtesy of Fred, who was now standing and praying that the seats on the train were made of sturdier stuff. Lance slouched with his arms crossed next to Wanda, while Pietro examined his reflection in the marble floor. St. John situated himself cross-legged on the floor between the two benches, making a bed and a fort around himself out of the unguarded luggage.

No one spoke until Remy slapped Pietro on the back of his head as he returned from the ticket counter.

"What was that for? I didn't touch your bag!"

St. John stopped sipping his Big Gulp to cover his ear with his spare hand and looked up in pain. "Too loud."

Remy smirked. "What makes you t'ink I had a reason? It was a pre-emptive attack." Before Pietro could start ranting, Remy started handing out envelopes to the practically comatose teenagers. "Here's all your tickets. Dere and back. Don't lose dem. If you t'ink you're gonna lose dem, dey will be safety-pinned to your shirt like a note to your kindergarten teacher. And don' forgot we're switchin' trains at Penn Station."

While the others secured their packets someplace they were sure to remember, Fred looked down at two envelopes they had been forced to buy for the big boy and sighed. "Safety pin, please."

Before Remy could oblige, Lance snapped the envelopes from Fred's hand. "I gotcha, Fred."

He smiled. "Thanks, Lance."

The earth shaker fingered the tickets in his hands. "How the hell did Sabertooth get outta this?" he complained. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pietro eyeing his duffel bag again. He moved it so it was between himself and Wanda.

"He's breakin' in his new motorcycle. We're meetin' him at de hotel tomorrow," explained the _de facto_ leader.

"I still don't get why we don't go down there on Friday in the Magneto bullets, yo," Todd interjected.

John sipped his beverage through the neon straw. "That's why you're no better than a drover's dog." (1)

Before John provoked Todd any further in words he might understand, Remy the baby-sitter stepped in. "Monsieur Magneto's got better t'ings to do dan haul us around."

"Like watch _Ghostwhisper_," said John matter-of-factly.

Pietro was insulted. "My father has taste. He doesn't watch _Ghostwhisper_."

John simply smiled. "Like father, like son."

Remy tried to take control of the conversation once again. "Dis isn't a mission we can where we pop in, tear de place up, and leave. We need security specs. Information too. Make sure dis is de last one. Make sure de formula isn't repeated. Gotta be thorough. To do dat we need an alibi. Magically appearing in Florida for two days, den disappearin' isn't de strongest defense. Wit'out Jason, we gotta actually make one. So we go down for de Light Parade. We volunteer 'cause we're poor and want to see de show. Sneak out and back before anyone notices we're gone."

Pietro crossed his arms. "I'm thorough and sneaky. I don't see why Magento thought we all needed to go. I could have handled it myself."

"_Salome vs. Pow-R8_: starring, written, and produced by Norma Desmond. Sounds like a hit to me." John tilted his head to Remy. "How 'bout you, Mr. DeMill?" (2)

Remy didn't feed John's insolence, but towered over the son of Magneto. "You go off alone, half-cocked dis week, and I won' come to save you. Magneto spawn or non." Pietro tried to save face, but Remy's voice and posture frightened him. In all his time as an Acolyte, Remy had never used that tone before. Of course, Pietro had never gone on a mission run by Gambit.

John broke in to lighten the mood. "You may be gay, but you're not enough of a damsel for Remy to save!" He laughed.

"You only say I'm gay because I get ten times more action than any of you." He paused for a half-second. "Maybe only three times as much as Remy. That accent gets you a long way with the ladies."

"No, it's not the 'action.' It's your wardrobe," said Lance with a half-smirk.

"And the hair," John added.

Pietro broke in. "What are you taking about? My hair is perfect. The girls love it."

"That's because you confuse them with it." John nodded and turned to Lance. "It's not a gay cut. It's a 'hard man cut'." (3)

The boys snickered.

Wanda put in her two cents. "You're forgetting the obsessive-compulsive neatness."

Pietro smoothed down his shirt and snapped his collar. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to look sharp. It's hard to look like I don't come out of the pig sty you keep."

"How does keeping thirty toothbrushes make you look sharp?" asked Wanda.

John leaned her way and put his hand up to his mouth. He whispered loudly, "By 'sharp' he means gay."

"Would you grow up? And you wonder why I jumped at the chance to go back to the Brotherhood. It wasn't for the health benefits."

John looked up pensively. "Didn't put much thought in it, really. We did have a party, though."

"You'd celebrate a bowel movement. I bet Hallmark makes a fortune off of you. All the cards you send out for the most obscure occasions."

John huffed. "I'm insulted. My greeting cards never match the holiday they're for!"

Wanda joined in, her eyes closed. "If that doesn't sound like an lover's spat, I don't know what does." Pietro fumed; St. John laughed at the support to his gay point, even if it did involve him.

An evil thought formed in Pietro's mind. He zoomed closer to Wanda. Despite her sleepy demeanor, Wanda noticed. "If you touch my bag again, dear brother, you will be breathing through a straw."

"I wasn't even thinking about it. I was confused as to your experience to identify a 'lover's spat'. How many guys have you ever dated?"

Everyone in the group grew silent and stared at the soon to be dead son of Magneto. All but Wanda knew who she had dated, and the result of that relationship do to Pietro's inaction. No matter how they felt about John or Wanda's dating John, they all hated Pietro for the brainwashing of their witch. Wanda simply didn't like her inexperience or inadequacies shoved in her face. Overall, bring up such a controversial topic was not a smart idea on Pietro's part. Ten seconds passed. Remy wished he could have taken bets on who would take the first swing at Pietro.

Prepared to dodge a hexing from Wanda, Pietro did not escape a tackel from St. John and a subsequent pummeling. "WHO'S FAULT IS THAT, EH, QUICKTOAST?"

Remy nodded to the big man, and Fred pulled the Aussie off his former girlfriend's brother, John's arms still swinging.

Remy reluctantly helped Pietro up and handed him a tissue to wipe his bleeding lip. "Clean yourself up an' watch your mouth," he whispered harshly. Remy turned to the rest of the crew. "Get on de train, slackers. Let's get out of dis hellhole."

* * *

The Silver Meteor from Penn Station to Jacksonville had many frills, like a lounge and dining car, not to mention more space. Unlike the train from Bayville to Penn Station, the mutants all managed to find seats in the same car, although not necessarily next to each other. Pietro found two empty seats in the front of the car, grabbed Wanda by the arm, and threw her into the window seat as he had on first train. Again, the speed demon glared at St. John as he passed, and again, spent the first minutes of the ride picking up the contents of his bag Wanda had hexed throughout the car. Remy, John, Lance, and Todd found four seats near the middle on the opposite side of the car, while Fred rushed to claim the two back empty seats in front of the extra luggage storage. He didn't stay there long; after his tickets were punched he and Todd journeyed to the lounge car where he felt less confined. 

In the seat by the window, St. John scribbled on a yellow legal pad he held an inch from his face. He wrote steadily to the beat of the bass that blasted from Lance's headphones in the seat behind him. While the Cajun was rummaging through his bag in the overhead compartment, someone had slipped into the seat next to John. Totally engrossed in his work, the Aussie didn't pay notice that someone other than Remy sat in the seat next to him.

Remy exclaimed, "What's dis?" St. John finally tore his eyes away from the yellow paper.

The witch looked up, unconcerned. "Your eviction notice."

Remy smirked, realizing the greatness of the situation. Wanda could talk to John and start building up that doubt about her memories. Maybe then John can have a "friend" to travel with after he left Magneto. "I've no desire to be a third wheel. Or a threesome. Au revoir, oiseaux d'amour."

Wanda's face grew red. She wasn't sure what he said, but she could tell by the look on his face what he was implying. She leaned over the aisle arm of her seat and sent a hex bolt after the retreating Cajun. The back of his trench coat flipped up over his head. After watching Remy stumble into the laps of a family of three, Wanda snickered and turned back to her seat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she ventured a glance at John. He was sitting sideways in his seat, legal pad and pencil in hand, staring at her with his mouth open.

When his expression didn't change, she raised an eyebrow. "Are you filter feeding?"

John scrunched his face in confusion, his mouth still hanging open. "Huh?"

Wanda stretched her arm across the seats. Her fingers pressed lightly against the bottom of St. John's chin, closing it.

John reopened his mouth. "Oh! Filter feeding. Good one." He forced a laugh and faced forward. The truth was, being this close to Wanda both excited him and made him nervous. Despite Remy's "Operation: Bewitched" game plan the Cajun shared last night (before they got plastered), John was still worried about triggering her memories. He remembered the pained look on her face when they were outside the Brotherhood house. He caused her that pain just as she caused the pain inside him, although she didn't know it. If he did cause her to go into a coma or go crazy trying to get her back, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. It was selfish, like his mother, and that was the last person in the world he wanted to become (4).

Then he wondered whether he truly wanted her back. It would never be as it was. Maybe he should treasure the memories he had and leave it at that.

On the other hand, she was sitting right next to him, looking as unwelcoming and tempting as ever. Not to mention she unnecessarily touched his chin. She could have said, "Idiot, shut your mouth. If I want to be gawked at, I'll find Toad," or something along those lines with name calling and possibly hexing. But she didn't.

_Did she just look at me out of the corner of her eye? _John's head snapped back in realization. _Was she flirting with me?_ The old Wanda did like to "accidentally" brush her hand across his or smack him in the back of the head then smile when she though he wasn't looking. Steal his jackets, ruffle his hair, pull on his belt loops, breath lightly on his neck, nibble on his lip . . . _Screw fear. I'm going for "Bewitched". Leftovers can make a great meal._ St. John was always more of a live for the moment guy. He shifted his eyes her way.

She was already looking straight at him. "Leave your creative mojo at home again?"

John was still in shock of the chin tag and the stare. "Huh? What? Oh, my mojo. Nope, my mojo's right here." He tapped the end of his pencil on his legal pad. "My typewriter was very depressed that I had to leave him behind and use this, but I let him down easy."

She leaned over, placing her arm millimeters from his on the armrest. "That's what you're writing?"

St. John nodded and tried to flip over the pad inconspicuously. "That's right. First draft stuff. My eyes only."

Wanda was not going to be denied when such insight into John was within arm's reach. She hexed his arms so they would raise to the sky and stay there. Wanda snatched the papers and squinted her eyes to focus. "This is in English?"

"The only language I know." John watched as she struggled to make out the words. "Sometimes it helps to hold it right side up."

Wanda was skeptic, but turned the legal pad upside down anyway. It was even more illegible. He tricked her.

John laughed, so she threw the papers in his face. Wanda slouched and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Don't get all pouty on me now! It's still early."

Wanda glared at him. "For that you'll be spending the next hour doing the wave."

He shrugged. "Good thing I'm 'Sure to be dry.'" (5)

Knowing he would enjoy himself either way, the witch sighed and released her hex. "Waste of energy," she claimed.

John shook out his arms and wiggled in his seat. Wanda spoke once again. "You fidget more than Pietro."

For a moment, John was deadly serious. "Don't you ever compare me to that dag (6)." He straightened up and peered around the car. "I'm surprised he hasn't come back here yet to give me a dose of verbal diarrhea."

"I slipped him a couple Ambien I stole from some geek at the station. With his metabolism he should be out for about three hours."

"Two hours and fifty-seven minutes, on average, from the time of ingestion. Then for the next hour he won't have any short-term memory. Unless he's built up a tolerance."

Wanda shook her head. "Why am I not surprised you know that?" She tilted her head and continued. She had a question on the tip of her tongue since that morning. "What did you mean at the station? About it being Pietro's fault I hadn't dated anyone."

John fiddled with his pencil. "Never said it was about you."

"Please."

John spoke with more affirmation but continued to face forward. "I don't like your brother. I saw an opening to get a few in, and I took it. Not to mention that I was still a little drunk from the night before."

"Liar."

"Pathological one, at that. I remember 'this one time at band camp - '"

"I don't want to know anything about which bodily orifices flutes fit into or not." (7)

"I played the french horn."

"You did not."

"How do you know? Ever kiss me?" They both flinched. St. John nervously continued, "I mean. . . brass players . . ."

Wanda quickly recovered from her embarrassment. She narrowed her eyes and interrupted the Aussie. "You have trouble remembering who you've kissed?"

"No," he replied quietly and gazed out the window. _You do_.

Wanda noticed his discomfort. "What's your problem now?"

"Nothing."

"Look who's pouting now."

John gave her a hurt expression. "Am not."

Wanda poked him in the chest. "That's exactly what you're doing."

John was surprised at the unnecessary touching again. "You want to see pouting?" He crossed his arms and slouched.

Wanda raised one eyebrow before accepting the challenge. She brushed her bangs over her eyes, pulled her legs to her chest and hugged them loosely, resting her elbows on her knees. To finish off the look, she glared.

John, not able to compete with the glare, slouched further down in his seat. He did this until his head was at the butt part of the seat. Wanda continued to glare.

The Acolyte gave up his loosing battle, but continued to switch positions, trying to find the most comfortable one. He was testing an upside down position when he had an epiphany. He abruptly sat up, hitting his head on the seat in front of him and causing the tray table to unlatch and hit his forehead.

The witch put her feet on the floor, leaned over, and looked curiously down at the pyromaniac sprawled at her feet.

"Did you hex me?" he asked.

One side of her mouth upturned. "No. That was all you."

"God-given talent, that is." He rubbed the back of his head. "Now what was I thinking?"

"That I won."

John got into a sitting position on the floor. "No, I knew it was over when I realized I couldn't compete with your eyeliner. . . That's it!" John reached under the seat and rummaged through his bag.

The witch shook her head. "Not following."

"If Norma's out, why are you back here? You're wasting precious trick and treat time."

"What?"

John pulled out a package of colored Sharpies. "Trick on him, treat for us!"

Wanda leaned back in her seat, unimpressed. "But he's such an easy target."

"Is drawing on your brother's face above you? 'Cause if you don't want to, I'm sure Lance will join me." He pointed between the seats where Lance sat drooling with his eyes closed and his discman blaring.

Wanda snatched the markers from John's hands. "I never said that. I just think we need to find someone more challenging afterwards." She smiled evilly.

John jumped up. "Lead the way, your witchiness."

* * *

"Rogue. Rogue!" Kitty called down the Bayville High School hallway. 

The goth pretended not to hear, hoping she'd give up, but knowing the bubbly teen wouldn't. Rogue stopped walking when the brunette's ponytail bobbed in front of her face.

Kitty gasped for breath. "Didn't you hear me?"

"No," she lied.

"Where are you going? We usually walk to sixth together."

"Havin' a field trip today. We're meetin' out front."

Kitty was confused. "A field trip? For geometry? . . . " Kitty saw through Rogue. "You're skipping!"

Rogue took a step closer and spoke in a harsh whisper. "Keep it down!"

"You know you only have, like, one more unexcused absence this semester before you get suspended. What are you doing that's so important?"

Rogue sighed. She would have to tell Kitty, everyone would find out, and Wanda would behead them both. "Ah gotta get ta the train station - "

Kitty squealed before Rogue could go on. "You're going to see Remy off at the station! That's so romantic!"

Rogue shifted her eyes. _Does she think Ah'm that lovey-dovey? Doesn't matter. As long as she believes it, she won't tell anyone at the mansion where Ah went an' no one'll get beheaded. Maybe she'll even cover fo' meh. _"I said, 'keep it down.' Don't want everyone findin' out."

"When are you getting back?"

"Probably not 'til after dinner. Could ya do meh a favor?" She paused until Kitty nodded. "Could ya tell anyone who asks that Ah'm at the library o' somethin'?"

Kitty's eyes sparkled. "Sure, Rogue. Anything for love." The girl looked at her watch. "I gotta go. I don't want to be late. Good luck!" Kitty winked and ran to her class.

* * *

Smoke break. Those two words must have come from heaven as far as Remy was concerned as he stepped off the train. John, Wanda, and a piece of art entitled Pietro were already arguing on the platform. Most of the argument came from the twins as John enjoyed his cig with a wide, amused smile on his face. 

St. John spied Remy getting off the train and walked up to meet him, offering him a drag. Remy gratefully took it and handed it back to John. The Cajun pointed to the arguing siblings. "What's up wit' dem?"

John laughed. "Wanda slipped Pietro some Ambien, and he woke up a few minutes ago."

Remy smirked. "Still got an hour of fun and mind games wit' no repercussions den. Nice."

John smiled, took a hit, and offered it back to Remy. "It's too much fun to play with Pietro's mind when he doesn't have any short-term memory. And Ambien is better than getting him drunk because he doesn't throw up all over your shoes or start crying."

The Cajun took the quickly dwindling cancer stick and nodded. "Excuse moi une minute, mon ami. I gotta make a phone call." He wasn't supposed to call the Institute to keep Rogue's harassment to a minimum, but he figured it would be the best time with half the team in the after school Danger Room session; it was more likely he'd get Rogue to answer.

"Gotta check in with the Mrs.? You're so far in, you're breaking through to China," his friend teased.

Remy scowled at him, but inside he wasn't insulted. He was excited that John was acting like his old self. He knew it was because of the time he was spending with Wanda. Remy put the phone to his ear and glanced at the siblings. _She seems to have some of her spark back too_. _Maybe I should get outta dis business and open a datin' service._

His thoughts were interrupted by an answer on the other end of the line. "Hello, Xavier's School. Kitty speaking," came her exuberant voice.

Remy took a small drag and leaned up against a column. "Glad you answered, petite," Remy said.

"Oh, hi, Remy."

Remy was taken aback by how disappointed her voice became. "You're in a happy mood. What's made dis girl so sad that not even a call from Remy LeBeau could cheer her up?"

Kitty sighed. "It's Piotr. He hasn't called yet."

Remy tried to reassure her. "It's pretty primitive out dere. I'm sure he will as soon as he can."

"I know. But it better be soon! I think I'm, like, going through withdrawal or something."

"How's dat?"

"I keep hearing the phone ring when it's not. After school, I heard it in the car, riding home."

"When you start hearin' voices on de other end of dese imaginary phones, you might want to see someone 'bout it."

Kitty replied sarcastically, "Thanks for the advice."

Feeling the conversation had gone on long enough, Remy asked, "Could you put Rogue on?"

"Rogue?" Kitty sounded surprised, which confused Remy.

"Who else do you t'ink I'd call for?" he wondered out loud.

Kitty sounded concerned. "Oh, no one. It's just that. . .she should have been there by now. She left before sixth. Maybe she got stuck in traffic."

"Got where?"

"To see you off at the station. Oops! I think it was supposed to be a surprise. Please still act surprised when she does get there," she pleaded.

Remy was lucky Kitty couldn't see the confusion on his face. Rogue knew he was leaving in the morning and didn't want to be anywhere near the station. She didn't want to know about the mission. It wouldn't make sense for her to come to met him at the station after school. Why did she tell Kitty that? What was she hiding from the one X-Men who she could be truthful with?

Remy was curious, but didn't want to blow her cover. "No problem, petite. I'll even wet my pants a little if it'll help." John, eavesdropping on Remy's side of the conversation shot him a disgusted look.

"Thanks, Remy. Have a good trip!" Remy returned salutations and ended the call.

Remy stared at the phone, questions racing through his head.

John peered over his shoulder. "Is it gonna sing and dance?" Remy responded with a look, finished John's cigarette and followed the conductor's call back to the train.

* * *

There she was. On the stone steps leading into a two-story genetic facility entitled "Genesis Medical: Genetic Diagnostics & Therapy." The building was a stone grey structure with modern tinted windows. It was a larger building than Rogue was expecting. The building would have been completely round except there was some sort of rectangular dormitory wing attached to the main circle, designed to match the original building but obviously added later. 

The Rogue took a deep breath and entered. The lobby was large, roomy and symmetrical. The air was warmer than outside, but still brisk. Slightly cooler than comfortable. There were two pods of comfortable looking chairs and magazine clad tables, one on each side. In the center along the back wall was an frosted, arched reception desk. No one was at the desk. The room was ominously silent. Rogue's instincts were telling her to turn tail and run.

The goth stood in the exact center of the room - she knew because of the circular design on the floor - and cleared her throat. "Ummm. . . "

Out of no where, the head of a small, teenage Asian boy popped up from behind the desk. "Welcome to Essex's Good Times Gene Therapy Emporium!" (8)

The boy reminded her of a little of Bobby. Rogue replied nervously. "Uh, hello. Do ya work here?"

The boy shrugged and nodded. "For the last few years."

"Ya have a very interestin' greetin'."

"'Mel usually does the meeting. He's busy vomitting."

" Uh, okay." Rogue, deciding the cute kid was harmless, approached the desk. "Ah have an appointment."

He flipped open a large book behind the desk. "The Rogue: Bayville, New York; Tour and screening event."

Rogue released the breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Sounds right."

The boy pointed to one of the pods of chairs. "Sorry, for not being polite. Sit, if you might."

For the first time, Rogue noticed the strange way he was speaking. She raised an eyebrow, wondering whether her first assessment of him as a normal kid was way off base. "Thanks?" She had met someone at Izzy's once who called himself a poet and spoke only in rhyme as well. She decided to test the kid while she was waiting. "What's your name?"

The smile left his face for a second, but soon it was back with a vengeance. "Kim Il Sung, I proclaim."

Rogue smirked. "You're pretty good."

"It's nice to be understood."

The clickity-click of heeled shoes approaching broke their conversation. A woman in a white lab coat with very blonde hair with green tinge headed toward Rogue, hand outstretched. "I'm Dr. Novak, Dr. Essex's assistant." She smiled courteously. "I hope Mr. Sung didn't annoy you too much. 'Mel usually covers the desk but is out sick today."

Rogue stood up and shook her hand. "Nah, he's a cute kid. Ah live with worse. Ah'm Rogue, by the way."

"I know who you are. I'm here to give you a tour of the facilities, which will end with a private and confidential session with Dr. Essex. Afterwards, if you are still interested, we will take some DNA samples for screening and analysis to see what we have and setup a follow-up appointment to discuss options."

Rogue nodded and followed as the doctor took off down the hall. Rogue struggled to keep pace with the long-legged blonde. After the first few rooms she started panting. She's gotta power walk o' somethin'.

The entire building was bright, white and spotless, like the lobby. There were laboratory assistants running around, transporting samples here and there, swirling around strange liquids in test tubes, reading results on computer screens. None of them were past their mid-20's. _Probably cheap college labor_. There were two chief resident doctors in the facility, Novak and Essex. The others were simply there to oversee the techies, nurses, and other laboratory work.

Upstairs in the main wing there were a series of small private rooms designated for prep and recovery for any patients who needed overnight care during their treatment.

On the stairwell, Rogue broke into Novak's rehearsed speech. "Ah'm confused. If the recovery rooms are here, then what's the big extra wing on the other side of the buildin' fo'?"

The doctor turned, surprised and maybe upset that someone interrupted her spiel. "That is the residence for some of the staff and volunteers, including myself." Dr. Novak pushed open the ground floor door and restarted her power walk. "Here's the cafeteria, but it is usually only open for breakfast and lunch. Dinner is served to those staying overnight, but on an individual basis. These offices are all administration: marketing, public relations, break room, etc., which we will not be exploring. That completes our tour." Dr. Novak stopped in the lobby they started in. "I will call Dr. Essex and see if he's ready for you."

Rogue stood awkwardly in the hallway while Dr. Novak used the phone at the reception desk. Kim Il Sung had disappeared leaving no one in the lobby but Rogue and Dr. Novak with her uptight French twist. The goth wondered what she had asked to make the woman turn so cold and short with her. Well, colder and shorter.

The doctor hung up the receiver and clicked back to Rogue. "He's ready. I'll show you to Dr. Essex's office."

* * *

(1) Drover's dog no good, useless.  
(2) More _Sunset Boulevard _references. _Salome _was the movie Norma Desmond wrote and forced Joe Gillis to edit before she submitted it to DeMill.  
(3) Joke about Patrick's hair cut in _Coupling _episode "Inferno." Don't really know what it means. I figure it's some British slang.  
(4) John told Wanda about his parents in Nine to Five: Chapter 18 - I'm a Dead Cat, Too.  
(5) For you youngsters or those who obviously didn't watch as much TV as I did when I was a kid, "Sure to be dry" was the tag line for Sure deodorant in the early nineties. The people in the commericals would raise their arms to be "Sure" or "Not Sure."  
(6) Dag, the bit of manure that hangs from the wool on the rear end of a sheep.  
(7) Referring to _American Pie_. Not a required viewing.  
(8) Too funny not to use, Ishandahalf.  
(9) This character is cannon, but had no "real name" in the comics. I named her after an actress in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Guess which one :) 

**A/N**: For those Jonda art-lovers, check out the deviant club Amieva started: http://jonda-club. deviantart. com (delete the spaces).

Next up: Rogue meets the tooth fairy. Just kidding. Rogue learns about genetic therapy and more Jonda!


	15. Who Ya Gonna Call?

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Fifteen: Who Ya Gonna Call?**

Rogue silently followed Dr. Novak until they stopped at a door down a shallow hallway she had not notice during the tour. Rogue pointed to the door. "Was this here the first time we came by?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Of course it was. This wasn't a stop on the underground railroad. There are no secret passages here. Do you think you were invited to dinner at Mr. Boddy's house?" (1)

This time, Rogue wanted to give some snootiness back, so she asked another layout question that had been bothering her. "Then how do ya get ta your dorms?"

The woman's face grew ridged again. "I do not disturb the employees' privacy by informing every vagrant that gets a tour the way, but if you must know, the entrance is down this same hallway you blinked by during the tour."

The doctor shook her look of disdain, replacing it with the fake courteous smile from before. "It was a pleasure to meet you." She extended her hand once again. "I hope we will be able to answer your questions. Have a great day!" After releasing Rogue's hand, Dr. Novak disappeared into one of the various laboratories.

Alone in the hallway, Rogue again had the instinct to run. Instead, she dismissed her intuition as fear and knocked.

"Enter," came a deep, scratchy voice from within.

Rogue opened the door, revealing a moderately-sized, brightly lit office. The back wall was a wall-to-wall bookcase filled with binders and texts. The furniture consisted of numerous filing cabinets, several chairs matching those in the lobby, and two desks: one meticulously neat, the other littered with open folders, a laptop, and a person sitting behind it.

The man stood up and smiled. His beady black eyes behind his small reading glasses made Rogue shudder. Again, she put those feelings aside and took the man's outstretched hand. "I'm Dr. Nathaniel Essex. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Rogue." His hand, which had less pigment than Rogue's, let go, and he gestured toward the guest chairs. "Please, have a seat." Like an old school gentlemen, the doctor sat only after Rogue herself had. "What did you think of our facilities? Did you like the tour?"

Rogue wrung her gloved hands on her lap. "I guess. It's a big place."

"It had to be. There are many seeking the services we provide here, more emerging every day. We at Genesis are the front-runner in evolved human research and development. The only competition we really have is not even on this continent."

"'Evolved human'? That's a nice way ta put freak," Rogue said with skeptic distain.

Essex gave her a Mona Lisa smile. "Freak, mutant, it sounds like you have been on the receiving end of some discrimination."

"That's an understatement."

A tall, dark-haired man burst into the room, interrupting their conversation. "Bloody slag needs to go jump off a bridge," he mumbled before he realized there were strangers in the room. "Oh."

Essex lost any semblance of the friendly exterior he addressed Rogue with just seconds before. "I can't very well have a confidential interview when I'm interrupted by the administration staff."

The man, who reminded Rogue of a younger, British Fox Mulder, nodded to her. "'Ello." He turned back to Essex, not intimidated too badly by his boss's tone. "I 'ave ta get the back-ups."

"Now?"

The man loosened his stance. "Yes." He raised up his arms in defense. "'Ey, I'm not the one who insisted there'd be only one entrance to the place and then gets 'is knickers in a bunch when we don't run it nice and orderly."

Essex waved his hand in a dismissing manner. "Fine, make it quick."

The man rushed to one of the two other doors in the room. As he passed through, Rogue caught a glimpse of an enormous room enveloped in blue glow from a wall of computer screens. It looked more like a newsroom or the Batcave than something that belonged in a clinic.

While the underling was in the next room, Essex apologized for the interruption, then didn't say another word until the back-up guy left. The doctor simply sat at his desk with his hands folded and a pasted on smile. Rogue was beginning to wonder if she was always creeped out by anyone who smiled at her for prolonged periods of time.

As the Brit with two DVDs in his hand closed the door to Essex office, the doctor spoke again. "I cannot apologize enough for the interruption. A pit-fall of running a successful business is all the routine administration work that goes along with it. I would much rather spend all day in a laboratory studying genetic code than do half the paperwork that needs to get done. But you don't want to hear about that. You came to learn more about the procedures we do here."

"Yeah, how does it all work anyway?"

"Our protocol starts of like this, an informational session. Then, if the patient wishes to continue, we would draw a blood sample. You'd be surprised at all the information available in a single vial of blood. Using the sample we would run a genetic diagnostic, identifying the X-genes, active, dormant, and latent ones. The results take a few days for processing. If we were to perform a diagnostic today, I would have the results on Thursday and set up another appointment Friday or later to discuss the results. From there, the options vary for each evolved human depending on the desire of the patient."

"Ah want ta control mah powers," Rogue cut in.

Essex leaned back in his chair and picked up a legal pad. "And, if you wouldn't mind telling me, what exactly is your mutation?"

"Well . . .it's kinda hard ta explain. When people touch mah skin, they kinda come inside o' meh. Not really, but Ah take their energy, put them in a coma, and make a copy o' their memories in mah head. If they're a mutant, Ah take their powers, too. After a while, the powers go away, but their memories. . . they stay around."

"It must be getting a little crowded in there."

"Yeah, it is."

"Do you know why the memories stay?"

"What? No, never really thought 'bout it."

"How does it feel when you take their energy and memories?"

"Like Ah'm hit with a big wave. Sometimes Ah'm a little confused about who's memories are who's, but Ah'm getting' better at sortin' them out now. Except. . ."

Essex stopped writing an looked up when Rogue didn't continue. He waited a little before egging her to continue. "'Except' what? To better understand what you want, I need to learn as much as I can about your mutation."

"Rogue looked at her hands as she spoke. "A couple weeks ago, Ah got beat up pretty bad. While Ah was unconscious, Ah had this dream where all the people Ah absorbed were in this ocean. Then they stood up and started walkin' toward meh. They were tryin' ta take over mah body. Ah woke up before anythin' happened, but Ah don't know what woulda happened if Ah hadn't." (1.5)

Essex scribbled furiously on his paper. "In your case, an MRI might be useful as well. Your powers are very interesting - "

Rogue huffed. "That's one way ta put it."

"I don't understand your hostility toward your advancement. It is truly is remarkable."

Rogue grew upset. This was going to be like Xavier's. All words and no help. "Remarkable? Ya try walkin' around covered up head ta toe and worry 'bout learnin' the dirty secret of the random guy bumpin' inta ya in the hallway. O' bein' afraid when ya boyfriend gets to close. O' knowin' one day he'll leave ya 'cause ya can only offer him so much."

Essex put down his notepad and looked the goth squarely in the eye. "I didn't realize your imprinting capabilities were involuntary."

"Yeah, they are," she snapped.

Essex hid his grin behind his legal pad. "Very well. Since you wish to control your powers, first, we would look to see whether it would be as simple as activating dormant or latent X-genes."

"What are those?"

"We use the term active for the X-genes currently being used in cell processes. The term dormant is used for those genes that show some activity in certain cells or at certain times, but not all. Very little is known about this category. I've only seen it in a few subj-. . . patients. Dormant X-genes have been deemed responsible for secondary mutations that occur after an evolved human's powers have been established, usually long after puberty. Latent X-genes have no activity and are often embedded in 'junk' DNA.

"If it is a simple means of activating these latent or dormant genes, the physical procedure will be similar to a bone marrow transplant. Marrow is removed from the patient's hip bone, effused with an enzyme specific to the gene to be activated. The enzyme was developed by myself from another evolved human, ironically. Then the laced marrow is implanted back into the patient. This procedure would be repeated several times for at least three months until the enzyme has activated those genes in almost all of the patient's stem cells.

"If the patient's evolution cannot be controlled by those means, there have been a few cases where DNA was manipulated to reach the desired effects by splicing or binding the genes in question. It's not a preferred method because of the uniqueness of one's advancement and the isolation of the DNA sequence is painstaking, not to mention all of the testing. In short, it takes a very long time."

Although Essex had lost Rogue back at the difference between latent and dormant, she still had questions. "So what ya're sayin' is that if Ah don't have those latent genes, Ah'm probably not gonna get control."

Essex again folded his hands on his desk. "Your powers could not be controlled, but, depending on the location of that particular X-gene, it may be spliced off entirely. A few of my patients have chosen that option."

Rogue nodded slowly. "Ah see." She paused before continuing with the uncomfortable question. "One more thin'. . . 'bout how much does this cost? The guy on the phone said the tour and the interview was all free - "

"Yes, we want to make sure everyone has the ability to get their facts straight, so today is free, and so is the genetic diagnostic if you are willing to allow us to use any significant findings in your DNA for further research. A little paperwork. The actual procedure does have a mighty price tag, but don't look solemn yet. There are loans available, or some of my financially challenged patients have chosen to work off their debt through service. The man who came through earlier is one of those. Dr. Novak, at one time, volunteered her services here. Another young man continues to volunteer here even though his debt has been repaid. We have a small finance department that will work everything out if treatment is possible."

Rogue glanced around the room at all the certificates hanging on the wall. "Must be a nice place, then. If all these people decided ta stay."

"I like to think so."

Rogue stood up. "Okay, Doc. Sign meh up."

Essex also stood, shook her hand, and smiled. "I'm glad you decided to join us."

* * *

"Do you have any sevens?" John asked Fred. 

"Goldfish."

John's hand dove into the pile of cards.

Wanda looked over her two cards at John. "Nines?"

He shook his head. Wanda drew from the pond and flipped up a nine of spades.

"Cheater!" John exclaimed. "I saw you hex it."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Hypocrite."

"How am I a cheater?"

"You have three twos behind your ear, yo," said Todd.

"I told you I'm saving them for Remy. What about you? You seem to have significantly less cards than you did at the end of your turn."

"Am I the only one not cheating?" Fred asked. John surveyed the group in the lounge, smiled, nodded.

Wanda threw her cards in. "We need to find something else to do. Anybody else want to get some coffee?"

John jumped up and raised his hand. "I want a mocha chocolate caramel swirl-a-chino with extra whipped cream!"

The witch squinted at the pyromaniac. That drink sounded familiar, but Wanda knew it wasn't served at Izzy's. While trying to recall the memory, she could feel her painkillers wearing off and her migraine returning. She closed her eyes and lost her balance.

Luckily, John was there to catch her. "Easy there. What's wrong?"

"My leg's asleep," she lied. Once she regained her footing, Wanda reached into her pocket and pulled out her medication. She had been popping pills all afternoon. At first she blamed it on her lack of sleep, but she was beginning to wonder.

On their way to the dining car, Wanda questioned the unusually pensive John. "Do you wear cologne or aftershave or anything?"

St. John gave her a funny look. "No, why?"

"I thought I smelled something strange. Thought it might be triggering my migraines."

John froze. "You're okay, right?"

Wanda gave him a funny look. "Yes, Mother. My doctor gave me some painkillers to take care of it for now, but when they wear off, the pounding comes back full force."

The Aussie lost himself in thought. "Maybe you shouldn't have coffee. Maybe you should go rest."

Wanda pushed him aside and slid by him in the narrow hallway. She stopped, facing him. "Don't tell me what to do." She poked him the chest for the second time. "I'll do what I like, and not my brother nor you can order me around."

"Geez, it was only a suggestion." He grew pensive again. "What about your dad?"

"Huh?"

"Can your dad order you around?"

Wanda's face grew red. "I'm here, aren't I? He didn't want me coming, but I made him agree to it."

John's tone was not affected by Wanda's attitude. "What if he didn't agree?"

Still with a point to prove, Wanda raised her voice. "I'd go anyway. I respect him, but I'll fight for what I want."

St. John nodded, looked down, then straight into Wanda's eyes. "Why did you want to come, anyway?"

Wanda turned away and finished passing him without reply.

* * *

Remy sat in his seat alone, fingering his cell phone. After waking, Lance joined Todd and Fred in the lounge car, and John and Wanda were avoiding Pietro. It was nearly nine o'clock. Of the ten hours he had been on the trains, he had spent the last five wondering what the hell Rogue was doing. He tried calling again around dinner, but the Wolverine had answered. Click. He tried again an hour later, but reception was horrible. He looked down at his phone again. Four out of five bars. 

The babies across the aisle had passed into dreamland only a few minutes before, so Remy stood up and walked front of the car, near the bathroom. He took a deep breath and dialed.

"Hello!" came the perky voice from before.

Remy's voice displayed no ill mood. "Bonjour, Kitty, sorry to disappoint you again. Is Rogue back yet? I forgot to ask her somethin' 'fore she left."

"Sure, no problem," Kitty replied and handed off the phone. Remy could hear them talking but couldn't make out what they were saying.

Eventually Rogue's voice came through. "Hold on, let meh get somewhere more private."

He could contain his anger no longer. "Of course, den everyone would know what a liar you are."

Remy heard a door shut before Rogue exclaimed. "Excuse meh?"

"You were gonna see me off at de station, non? Sorry, I missed you by a few hours."

"Don' get your tail all knotted up!"

"Why not? You've been all pissed at me for lyin' before. Why are you above de law?"

"For the record, Ah never said Ah was meetin' ya at the station. Ah was skippin' sixth an' Kitty came up with that all on her heartstruck own."

"Why didn' you correct her?"

There was a pause before Rogue realized Remy couldn't see her shrug. "Didn't see the point."

"Dat brings us back to what you were really doin'."

Another pause. "Nothin'."

"Another lie. If it was nothin', den why did you want Kitty to t'ink you were doin' somethin' else?"

On the train, a white-haired teenager halted just inches from Remy's face. "The bastards drugged me again! Where are they? You know where they are! I can't believe you're risking my sister's health so your buddy can get some action!"

Pietro had pushed the already upset Remy over the edge. The Cajun shoved Pietro into the wall and pinned him easily in the small hallway. "I'M ON DE PHONE, SPEEDY!" He lowered the phone and his voice to take care of business. "If you cared 'bout Wanda you shoulda done somethin' in the first place instead of takin' away one of de few t'ings in dis world dat made her happy! Me and John have been tryin' to put it right! What have you done?"

Pietro gulped, then regained his confidence. "I'm trying to let her move on with her new life instead of grasping on to a few fleeting memories. My sister and John are a bad idea. If she gets sick, than I'll make sure my father knows who's behind it, and we'll make them pay. You won't be able to charm your way out of that."

"You won' stop will you, non? Den I guess I don' feel to bad 'bout doin' dis." Remy threw Pietro into the bathroom, and braced the door. He charged the lock and the hinges to warm them enough to melt, then decharged them before they exploded.

Remy put the cell phone back to his ear as he walked to the first floor of the train, away from Pietro's banging. "Now where were we? Oh yes, you were tryin' to cover up your lie instead of tellin' de truth, non? Claimed you were doin' 'nothin'."

"Look, Ah was doin' somethin', but there's nothin' ta tell right now."

"I t'ink dere is. If I'm goin' to be your cover for whatever cowtipping adventure you're goin' on, don' I deserve to know what you're really doin'?"

"Yeah, and Ah'm gonna tell ya. Ya should know even if Ah didn't use you as an alibi. It's just. . . .not somethin' we should talk about over the phone. And Ah won't be sure if it'll be anythin' until Saturday - "

"What happens Saturday?"

Rogue growled. "Ah want ta tell ya in person, not over the phone!"

Remy paused to collect his thoughts. "I don' like dis."

"Ah'm sorry. Ah should have said somethin' before ya left, but Ah hadn't even decided if Ah was goin' 'til yesterday. An' Ah kinda wanted to surprise ya if Ah did go and stuff happened the way Ah wanted it to."

If it was possible, Remy grew more suspicious. "What kinda surprise?"

"A good one, Ah hope."

Remy sighed. "I still don' like dis. You're pushin' me to be honest wit' you 'bout everything, but you're still keepin' secrets."

"Ah don't mean ta."

"But you are."

"Ya'l be back on Monday, right? Ah'll tell Wanda, then we'll get together, and Ah'll tell ya everythin'."

"Dat's almost a week away."

"Ah need ta tell ya in person, Remy. Anyways, the soonest Ah'll know anythin' is Saturday. If ya really want, Ah'll call ya Saturday night."

"Busy."

"Oh," she started, then stopped herself from asking what when she realized it probably had something to do with their mission. "Sunday mornin', then. First thin'."

Still bitter and stubborn, Remy replied, "Don' know. Might be in church."

"Ha ha."

"I don' like dis."

"Ah think there's a skip in your voice."

"And why does Wanda get ta know first? I'm de boyfriend."

"Ya like ya head on your shoulders?"

"Oui."

"Then ya want meh ta tell Wanda first."

"Fine."

"Ah'm sorry, Remy."

"If you were really sorry, you'd tell me what was goin' on."

"Ah can't. Not yet."

Remy yielded. "I'll call you after everything's done on Saturday. It'll be. . . late. You better pick up on de first ring too, 'cause I don' want ta interrupt de Wolvie's beauty sleep, okay?"

"Thanks fo' understandin', Remy."

"Oh, I don'. But dere's nothin' I can do 'bout it, non?"

"Don't be like that, Remy."

"I've got a right to be like dis."

Before Rogue could reply, Remy hung up the phone. He knew he was being overdramatic with the hang-up, but he didn't care. He walked through the cars on a mission. A mission to find a red witch.

Rogue never called back.

* * *

"'If there's something weird, dut-do-do, and it don't look good - '" A hand over his mouth interrupted John's singing. 

"Stop," the witch commanded. She slowly removed her hand.

"'Who ya gonna call? - '" he continued. (2)

Wanda's hand covered his mouth once again. "Who ever told you you could sing?"

"Me mum."

"I'll kill her."

"That'll be tough."

"How's that?"

"She's already dead."

"Lucky her."

John took a deep breath to continue his verse, but Wanda anticipated it and covered his mouth for a third time. This time John decided to have a little fun.

Wanda drew her hand back, disgusted. "You licked me!"

John slapped his tongue around in his mouth. "You taste funny. Needs more ginger. Maybe some milk."

"I'm not a cookie."

"Then stop tasting like one."

"I should hex your taste buds off."

"But you won't."

Wanda leaned across the table. She could feel the warmth of his breath. "Don't challenge me."

John smiled and shook his finger at her. "You aren't as mean as you pretend to be."

The witch leaned back and crossed her arms. "And you aren't as stupid as you want people to think."

"I wouldn't challenge me. You have not seen the extent of my stupidity."

"And I never wish to."

"Then why did you spend the entire day with me?"

"I haven't a clue."

He smiled and his eyes twinkled. "I know why." He paused to build suspense before breaking out into a nondescript tune: "You like me, you like me - "

Wanda kicked him playfully underneath the table to stop the singing. "I hate you, you moron."

Although her mouth said one thing, she knew it wasn't true. She could feel no hatred for the foreigner sitting across from her, no matter how he challenged her that afternoon. The best part was she knew that. She had feelings. She wasn't a robot. She was alive. And for some reason this imbecile was a key to that. She didn't know why he made her feel this way, but she wasn't going to let it go easily. That was why she spent the day with him. _And he's isn't half-bad looking. I like his smell underneath those cheap cigarettes too. Then there's the way he looks at me when I upstage him. Not jealousy, but some combination of awe, mischief, and something else. There's also the fact that he can figure out things about me that I've never told anyone. It's creepy, but. . . nice, I guess._

The Aussie pretended to be choked up. "I know. You're only my friend to make Cane Toad jealous. I heard make-up sex is ten times better. When you're done, could you confirm or deny it for me?"

Wanda's eyes narrowed. She couldn't believe seconds before she thought he was 'nice'. "Correction: I hate you, you perverted moron." Wanda began massaging her temples.

John nodded. "That's better." He stood up straighter in the booth and looked beyond Wanda, toward the entrance to the dining car. "Hey, there's Remy!"

Remy looked out at the empty car, wondering where John's voice came from. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward the bar.

"Don't go in there!" The bartender/food server whispered desperately. "It's haunted. There was stuff flying around and things bursting into flame. If you care for your life, don't go in there!"

Remy smirked and gently removed the man's clasped hands from his shirt. "Don' worry, homme. I'm from _Ghost Hunters_." (3)

The man fell to his knees. "Thank you, thank you!" He peered around Remy. "Where's your camera crew?"

"Night off," Remy replied over his shoulder as he headed to the corner booth.

Remy heard John's voice again. "How's your night been?"

He glanced around the empty booth. The only unusual things were five napkins equally spaced around the booth. "How are you doin' dis?"

John pointed to his companion, but Remy couldn't see. "She's full of fun magic tricks."

Wanda started massaging both temples. "They aren't tricks."

"They are to me."

She looked him straight in the eye. "You're hopeless."

"And helpless but that's not new."

Wanda, head down, closed her eyes and answered Remy's question. "Cloaking spell. One of the few spells Agatha taught me before. . . before. . . something. . . before I stopped training with her. I was going to go back, but Father was adamant about it."

John's face blanched. "You okay?"

She opened her eyes and looked at the Aussie. "My medicine's wearing off. I can't wait until I get on the real stuff that actually stops these things."

"Why don't you just pop a few more like before?"

Wanda shook her head. "I already took more than I'm supposed today. The doctor said I could develop an ulcer if I wasn't careful."

Knowing that his presence triggering her locked memories was causing the pain, John felt like running to the other side of the train to make the pain go away. He spoke to himself out loud. "What can I do?"

Thinking the question was directed at her, Wanda answered. "Some water would be nice."

Now with a mission, John stood up. "Right, water."

Remy, also feeling responsible, took the job. "I'll get it, mon ami. Why don' you sit and give de fille a massage or somethin'?"

Remy got a bottle of water from the cowering bartender and placed it on the table. The bartender watched the bottle disappear from the tabletop and returned to hiding behind his counter.

Wanda took a sip, closed her eyes and leaned back into John. "Thanks, Remy. For a lying, two-bit, diseased thief, you come in handy sometimes."

"I'll take dat as a compliment. And she lies too, you know. Dat's why I came to find you."

"Knew there had to be something."

Remy let the insult roll. "Rogue lied ta Kitty 'bout meetin' me at the train station so she could skip sixth period. You know why?"

"Math is the bane of her life? Why don't you ask her?"

"I did. She won' tell me over de phone. She did say that she had to tell you first. Somethin' 'bout likin' my head."

Wanda opened her eyes. "The girl certainly likes mysteries. Must be a Scorpio. She wouldn't tell me, either. She said she didn't know if it would fall through or not and didn't want to tell people until she was sure. I told her that I would behead her and anyone she told first."

"What were you talkin' 'bout when it came up?"

Wanda looked up and searched her memories. "We were talking about . . ." She looked at John over her shoulder and, growing self-conscious, moved out of his arms. ". . . things. Then we got onto the subject of you and her, and she wasn't her pessimistic, cynical self. She was unusually confident. I knew something was going on, but couldn't get it out of her." She snatched the water bottle and took another sip. As she recalled her conversation with Rogue about John, the pounding in her head grew. There was something else Rogue was keeping from her in that conversation. She began feeling faint.

"Wanda!" John exclaimed as her head fell limply to her shoulder.

Still unable to see Wanda and John, Remy asked, "What's goin' on?"

John's voice brought Wanda back to consciousness. "John? I think I should go to bed," she said weakly.

He helped her up. "To bed it is then."

Wanda groaned. "But if we leave the runes, my cloaking spell will be broken, and I'll have to fight with Pietro again. I'm really not in the mood."

"Nevermind about him. I'll take care of it."

They stepped beyond the five napkins, and Remy could see both of them. Wanda was pale and struggling to stay focused on walking with John underneath her shoulder guiding her.

"'You don' look so good,'" Remy told the witch.

She gave him an annoyed look while John retorted. "'You don't smell too good, either' (4), Remy." John voice was sharper than usual. He wanted to blame Remy for Wanda's current condition, but deep down he knew it was his own fault. Maybe he should have tossed the leftovers out. Started out fresh somewhere else.

Remy took the misdirected abuse and snagged Wanda's half-drunk water bottle. On the way out he spoke to the bartender. "Ghosts all gone now. Just gotta get 'em what they want." He swiped some more water and chips as he left.

The trio made their way silently back to their car, Remy and John taking turns carrying Wanda. They got to the back of the car and spied Freddy's two empty seats. They set Wanda down in them and made her comfortable.

Lance came over from his seat. "What's going on? Is she okay?" Remy filled him in on as much as he could say in front of Wanda. The earthshaker glared at St. John, but the concerned and guilty expression on the Aussie's face dispelled his anger. "You watch yourself," he told him and went back to his seat.

"What is that incessant knocking?" the witch asked.

John shrugged. "Remy's here, so we know it isn't him banging someone in the bathroom."

"It's Pietro," said Remy.

"I better not be getting a niece from the loins of some train tramp."

The Cajun shook his head. "He's in dere alone. I locked him in dere after he interrupted my phone call with Rogue."

Wanda snuggled down in the blankets and pillows the boys stole from other passengers. "That's nice," she mumbled. "I almost take back all the bad things I've ever said about you."

Remy rolled his eyes and nodded to John to take their seats near Lance.

"'Night, luv."

Wanda spoke, but kept her eyes closed. "Goodnight, John. Sorry I had to cut the night short. I know you had planned on a lot more mayhem."

John felt the guilt creep back up on him. His reply was soft. "Don't be sorry." Then he lightly added, "It was only a smoker's mutiny and a minor plot for world domination. I'll let Pinky and the Brain have the spotlight tonight."

"You're a freak."

"Time to go to bed, Grandma."

"I should hex you for that."

"But you won't 'cause - "

"Finish that sentence, and you'll be needing Depends like a Grandma."

"Or a crazy astronaut." (5)

Wanda turned over, signaling the end of the conversation.

John and Remy sat down in their seats. John spoke first. "Are we doing the right thing?"

"Oui."

"What makes you so sure?" Lance piped up from his seat behind them.

Remy turned so he could see both of them. "No one should have to live a lie."

"People live lies all the time."

"But dey have a choice. She didn'. You really d'ink she'd choose dis for herself?"

"She'd choose truth. Even if it destroyed her, that's what she'd want," said John somberly. Lance nodded and leaned back in his seat.

* * *

(1) From the great film _Clue_! Required viewing. 

(1.5) See "Nine to Five: Chapter 14 - End of the Longest Day."

(2) "The Ghostbuster's Theme" by Ray Parker Jr.  
(3) Show on Discovery Channel.  
(4) Both lines spoken by Fezzik in _The Princess Bride_.  
(5) Referring to the crazy astronaut Lisa Novak, who wore diapers so she wouldn't have to stop driving on her race to beat up some woman on an airplane.

**Next up**: The Brotherhood make it to Florida in one piece and more Jonda!


	16. It's Not an Act

**A/N:** Since this story is so long, I'm going to recap what we have found out so far about Essex and Remy. Remy used to work for Essex. After he developed his powers and blew up his best man at his wedding, Essex found Remy. He has not revealed what all he did for Essex or why he worked for Essex, but Remy recruited Alice/Malice for him and was team leader/trainer of some of the mutants he brought in. In "Nine to Five" we learned that on his mission to capture Angel for Essex, Remy crossed paths with Magneto. Magneto, having lost Angel, offered Remy a job inexchange for making sure Essex and his crew wouldn't harm his estranged family again and that Essex wouldn't try to get him back.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Sixteen: It's Not an Act**

A young speed demon awoke to the sound of clinking. He sat up only to feel the soreness and stiffness of his muscles. He blinked. He was in a train bathroom, where Remy had trapped him the night before.

Instantly alert, Pietro resumed banging on the door. The clanking stopped. He could hear voices, then it began again with more urgency. In a few minutes the door was removed.

"I'm free!" Pietro exclaimed. He ran out and shook hands with the two men holding the door and the tools. "You have done a great thing for the world. This will be the most meaningful day of your mundane lives." He ran back into the bathroom and squirted waterless cleaner on his hands before gusting past the speechless rescuers.

Pietro first checked the front seats of the car, hoping his sister had come to her senses and dropped the Aussie. Nope, the seat was empty. He searched the car for a sign of her and found her where he dreaded, yet most expected.

In the middle of the car, two young people slept bundled in train blankets. The only thing not covered by blankets was the Aussie's head and a small tuft of hair of the person in the aisle seat. The head of the one in the aisle seat rested peacefully on John's shoulder, his head hanging limply with a small trail of drool coming from his open mouth. Pietro grimaced.

In two shakes, Pietro flung John over the person in the aisle seat. "I told you to stay away from my sister, you half-witted lunatic! The last thing she needs in her life right now is some imbecile like you weaseling his way in. She's too good for you. You're not even good enough to be in the same room as her."

Remy, sitting in the aisle seat, threw the blanket off his head. He slid his sunglasses down his nose and glared at Pietro. "What de hell are you screamin' 'bout dis early, huh? And what branleur (1) let you outta de bathroom?"

Pietro's jaw dropped when he saw that it was Remy under the blanket and not Wanda. "Remy? But . . .huh. . . what . . . Where's my sister!" He tightened his grip on John's shirt. "If you hurt her in any way, there will be no place to hide."

Remy glared at Pietro. "And if you wake up d'ose babies across de aisle, you'll pray for a quick death."

Before Pietro could start yelling again, Lance, now awake, answered him. "She's sleeping in Fred's seats. Now shut up, both of you." He rolled over and pulled the blanket around him tighter.

Pietro dropped John in Remy's lap, sped back to Fred's seats, then returned. "What are you talking about? She's not back there. Where is she?"

The boys were fully awake now. Lance shook Toad as he crawled over his seat. The five boys stood around the two seats in the back holding nothing but blankets and pillows.

Lance started with what they knew. "She was there last night."

Pietro once again got in John's and Remy's faces. "What did you do with her? Never mind, I don't want to know details. I need to know where she is now! Did you put her in a coma and get rid of the evidence? Doesn't matter, I know who's responsible. You'll pay."

"What's everyone looking at?" came a feminine voice from behind the crowd.

They turned in surprise. Wanda stood, looking refreshed and holding a disposable coffee cup. Her make-up was fresh, hair brushed, and, if you were at the right angle, you could have sworn she was smiling a little.

Pietro stepped between John and Wanda to make sure he was the center of the conversation. "You're okay! Where were you?"

The witch shook a half-full cup. "Getting coffee with Freddy." For a big guy, the rest of the boys only now noticed he was standing behind Wanda.

Wanda raised an eyebrow to her brother. "Why are you so spastic this morning?"

Pietro stepped to the side to keep John from wedging himself in. "Me? Spastic? Never. I - "

Wanda cut her hand in his face. "Save it. I'm sick of your two-bit lies and this protective brotherly act." She took a step back to see John behind her brother. "What moron let him out of the bathroom?"

Pietro stepped between them again. "It's not an act." Wanda narrowed her eyes, but before she could hex him, she found herself kidnapped to another part of the train. "Don't get involved with this guy. He's bad news."

Wanda pushed away from her brother and crossed her arms. "So you tell me. Over and over and over."

"Haven't you figured out already that I'm always right? Miss Oklahoma won Miss America, Lance can be mistaken as a bum, Oreos are better than elves, and astronauts would totally kick the caveman's ass (2)."

Wanda simply raised an eyebrow.

Pietro knew he had to lay it on now. Luckily, he had enough time to prepare his speech while he was locked in the bathroom. "I've lived with the guy, okay? I know what he wants, and he'll only hurt you. Why do you think he's ignored you until this trip? He knows he has enough time to work you, get in your pants, and be done before anyone finds out. You'll never admit he had control over you, much less that you let him have sex with you, so he's free and clear to move on to the next."

Wanda wondered where he came up with his story. _Are we talking about the same person?_ "John's not like that." Although she said that, a few of his words did stay with her. Especially the part about why John hadn't paid much attention to her until now.

"How do you know?" Pietro continued. "Memorize each other's social security numbers already? Did he tell you where the coupon drawer was (3)? No? Let's start with an elementary question." Pietro cupped his hands and tapped his index fingers together. "Where did Father find him? What was the one thing he insisted he bring here from Australia? What was his grandfather's name? What's his favorite movie?" Pietro's eyes were locked on a silent, glaring Wanda. "Nothing? You might know this one: How many moles does he have on his butt?"

"I don't want to know how you know the answer to that."

Pietro shook his head and turned red. "I don't know! I've never seen his butt! Would you drop that already?"

Wanda smirked then asked, "Are you done?"

Wanda was surprised when her brother took her hands and for once looked sincere. "Please, Wanda, I'm begging you. You know how often I beg-?"

"Every time you bring a girl or two home."

Pietro waved one hand dismissingly. "That doesn't count. Promise me you'll stay away from him."

If Wanda's mind hadn't already been swayed in the matter, his sincerety might have had an effect on her. "I'll do what I want, Pietro. Stay out of my way. I won't warn you again."

Pietro had one more desperate play. "You're the rebound. He likes you because you remind him of his ex. Once he's figured out that you aren't the same person, he'll leave, you'll be hurt, and I'll have to say I told you so."

Wanda's face grew red. Her brother finally hit on something she had feared. _Rogue said I wouldn't be a rebound. She was sure of it. But is she more trustworthy than my own brother? She keeps things from people, but she's never outright lied to me._ "This conversation is over," she spat.

Pietro bit his lip. Wanda knew he was holding something back, but she wasn't interested in anything more he had to say. Pietro exhaled and let go of her hands.

After he turned to leave, Wanda called out, "They have a cookie jar, not a drawer, in juvie clutching a bottlecap, a typerwritter named Watchtower Smasher, Theordore, it is not humanly possible to know every one of his favorite movies, and three." The last part was a lie; Wanda hadn't yet seen the firebug's buttocks, but the disgusted face Pietro gave her when she told him was priceless. As she walked away, she grinned.

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me." 

"And I thought the Brotherhood House was a hole."

"Toad's bathwater is cleaner than this."

"Hey!"

"I'll have to sterilize mine."

"John, put your flame throwers away."

"Really, no one wants to see those."

"But it's the only way."

"John!"

"Fine. Spoiled sport," he grumbled.

"I dare you to go in first."

"No way, man. You go."

"Why not? It's not all that different from your natural habitat, is it, Cane Toad?"

"Knock it off."

The group turned around when they heard the sound of a motorcycle pull up. They were standing outside the Salsipuedes Motel (4) on the not so pleasant side of Jacksonville, Florida, with their backs turned to the rooms the cheapskate Magneto booked them. One of the doors to the rooms stood ajar, but they had all backed up after taking a whiff.

Sabertooth swung his leg over his motorcycle, took off his helmet and strode over to the group. He sniffed the air and scowled.

Todd hopped next to the motorcycle. "Nice bike. What are those?" He pointed to several mason jars filled with dark liquid on the back. Sabertooth towered over Toad and growled. The skinny guy gulped and retreated.

The hairy catman walked up to the slightly open door and peered in. He spun on his heel and towered above Remy. "I'm not staying here."

"Why not? It doesn't smell any worse than your room at the base," said John.

Sabertooth simply growled. Magneto had given him specific orders not to seriously injure the pyromaniac before the mission was over. "They have fleas."

Everyone simultaneously took another step back from the motel rooms.

"I'll go get our money back for de rooms," declared Remy.

* * *

The stinging smell of chlorine and seventies color scheme was like heaven after contimplating living the rest of the week at Salsipuedes. St. John dropped his bag on the floor and immediately started jumping on the bed. 

"You were leashed as a child, weren't you?" Lance asked as he set his stuff down on the other bed.

"Close, locked in a closet," he said as he continued jumping.

The first thing Remy did when he joined them was close the curtains to the front window and the patio door.

"Paranoid today, are we?" John joked.

"I could have put you and Pietro together," the Cajun threatened. His cell started vibrating. After glancing at the number, he hung up and threw the phone on the dresser.

John, still jumping, called Remy's bluff. "'Cept we'd kill each other, and you'd be another two men short."

"What men? The only people on this mission are a witch, six babies, and an overgrown hairball," the Scarlet Witch declared from the open doorway connecting the two rooms.

"Aaahhh!" Pietro screamed in aggravation. "Wanda, keep the door shut. I don't want to glance over and see the Acolyte lovebirds smooching in the corner. It's bad enough I have to room with you; I don't need any more nightmares."

"I know you're heartbroken over our break-up, Norma, but you have to accept that I've moved on. Jealously is no way to live."

Pietro tried to slam the connecting door but Wanda hexed it so it would throw her brother across the room instead.

"This is going to be a long week, isn't it?" asked Lance.

"Be thankful Magneto booked seven shitty rooms countin' on Piotr and Jason to be here. Otherwise we couldn' aford de four we got here."

"What about all the money you swiped from the flea circus? Couldn't you have gotten one more room?" asked Lance.

"Stop whinnin', homme. You want your own bed, dere's one free in Toothy's room, but I wouldn' wish dat on any man."

There was a knock on the door. John took a flying leap off the bed and answered it.

"What do we do now?" Freddy asked after entering with Todd. Their room was down the hall, connect to Sabertooth's, but their connecting doors remained shut and bolted.

"Relax, settle in. Meet here at," Remy looked at his watch, "3:30. Someone let de walkin' carpet know." He sidestepped to the door. "I got some errands to run."

Freddy noticed the cell phone on the dresser, which had started vibrating again. He picked it up gently and called after the Cajun, "Wait! You forgot - " Remy slammed the door. "- your cell phone."

* * *

"Talk ta meh, ya miserable piece o' . . . " Rogue trailed off as she repeatedly banged the handset of the school's graffitied pay phone on the cradle. 

After a couple good hits, the goth let go of the phone, spun around and leaned against the wall, fists clenched at her sides. She let out a growl. At the same time, she felt the hallway shake. She looked around to see if anyone else noticed the unnatural settling of the earth. A couple people were picking papers up off the floor, but no one was looking at her. She sighed, but wondered where the earthquake had come from. It couldn't have come from Lance; he was on the mission. It couldn't have been her; she hadn't touched Lance in ages. _Someone else musta broke somethin' big near by o' dropped some equipment o' something. Maybe Forge blew somethin' up. . .again._

Satified with her reasoning, Rogue's mind returned to the manner at hand: Talking to Remy. After he hung up on her the night before, she was angry. She thought about calling him back right then to scold him for his childish behavior but reconsidered because he had a point. She kept things from him after she insisted he keep nothing from her. She decided it was better to let him cool down and call him the next day. She didn't want to tell him about Genesis or the work she was hoping to have done, but she knew she couldn't leave things like they were until Saturday.

She reached in her jeans to pull out some more change, only to realize she didn't have any. "Shit."

Like a light from on high, an open hand containing silver coins appeared before her face.

"Need a quarter?"

Rogue gave Scott a funny look "A quarter? When was the last time you used a pay phone? The 80's?"

He let Rogue take the money from his palm and leaned against the wall. "What's wrong?"

Rogue shook her head and picked up the handset. "Ya don't want ta know."

"Just because I don't approve of your relationship with Gambit, doesn't mean I'm not your friend." Rogue's lips stayed sealed. "Maybe I can help. Like you helped me and Jean forgive each other."

Rogue faced him. "This is payback then?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."

The goth smiled and nodded. She turned back to the phone and didn't say anything more.

Scott took the hint and stood up straight. "I'll leave you some privacy. Remember I'm here. Free insight in the male mind if you ever need it."

As he walked away Rogue called out, "If Ah was workin' on a surprise fo' ya, but didn't want ta tell ya 'til Ah finished. Except ya found out Ah was keepin' somethin' from ya, how do Ah get ya ta be patient 'til it was ready?"

"You're making him a present? Like a craft?"

"Didn't ya know? Ah joined the Girl Scouts."

Scott broke out into a wide smile. "That's great, Rogue! You know, I've been having this craving for Thin Mints - "

"Can ya stay on topic?"

Scott ran his hand through his hair and thought. "Tell me you scraped it, then surprise me later."

"But then Ah'd be lyin'."

Scott shrugged. "Aside from spoiling the surprise, I don't know how else I would stop thinking about it. If it's a good surprise, I'll forgive you pretty quickly."

Rogue sighed and turned back to the phone. "Thanks." Scott left for his next class.

The coins jingled into the machine, and Rogue dialed Remy's cell. When his voice mail picked up, she sighed. "Remy, this is the last time Ah'm gonna call ya. Ah'm sorry 'bout yesterday. Ya were right, but Ah had a reason not ta tell ya yet, and, as it turned out, yesterday turned out ta be a bust. Ah found out this mornin'. Apparently it didn't take as long as I thought ta find out. Call meh when ya get a chance." The bell rang signifiying the end of lunch. "Shit. And now Ah'm late fo' class."

Quickly, Rogue hung up the phone, picked up her bag, and ran across the school.

* * *

"When are you going to stop?" Wanda asked the jumping Aussie. Both her and Lance had tried to stop the incessant jumping by hexing and moving the bed, respectively, but John would stand up, brush himself off, then resume jumping. 

"Never." He jumped a few more times. "It's fun. You should try it."

"No."

"Why are you afraid to try new things?"

Lance winced, knowing from his experience that saying something like that would get you hexed. He was surprised when there were no blue energy flashes.

"I'm not afraid."

"Prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything."

"Yes, you do. You're afraid that if _you_ jump on the bed, you'll break it."

Wanda ground her teeth. She stepped onto the bed and shot daggers at John. A moment later, she shoved him off the bed onto Lance, resting peacefully on his own bed reading a magazine.

"Watch it!"

John ignored him. Instead, he smiled from the crevice between the beds where he had fallen. Wanda had found another excuse to touch him. "Now bend your knees and push up."

Wanda crossed her arms stubbornly.

John crawled back on the bed. "Here, let me show you." He took her hands in his. _Now I'm making up excuses_. "Now remember all those times when you were a kid, and your dad told you no jumping on the furniture." John lightly hopped. "No cookies for dinner." He hopped a little higher. "No swimming after eating." John was jumping now, and Wanda found herself hopping a little in synch. "No playing outside after dark. No dressing up the dog in Mum's clothes. No reading after bedtime."

Wanda jumped a little higher. "No drawing on the walls." She paused before thinking of another. "No dumping sand down Pietro's pants."

John laughed. "No shaving the cat."

"You're both insane," Lance declared as he watched. The two continued to vent.

Wanda let go of John only to jump higher with each declared repression. "No bothering Dad while he's working."

"Throw away the toys your dad bought you."

"No more moping."

"No more questions."

"No hiding Dad's keys."

"No eatting Sabertooth's Lucky Charms."

"Don't leave the house."

"No more cooking experiments."

"Let Master-creep play in your head."

"No cocoa and cookies."

"You're not going to Florida."

"No negotiations."

"No more magic."

"No dating . . . " John's face fell to the floor. He stopped jumping, paled, and headed to the bathroom mumbling about Dixie cup size bladders.

The weight that had been rising off Wanda's shoulders crashed back down on her. She stood alone on the bed. "What did I say?" she asked Lance.

Lance kept his eyes on his article, fearing they would give something away. "Probably nothing. He's crazy."

Wanda sat down on John's bed across from Lance. "I think it's more than that."

Lance ruffled his magazine. "Ask him then, not me," he snapped.

Wanda was bewildered by his hostile behavior. "What's your problem?"

"Nothing."

The witch was not fooled. "You need to work on your acting skills."

"So do you."

"Excuse me?"

"The only people you care about is yourself and John for some ungodly reason. Don't start pretending you care about the rest of us."

"That's not true."

"When he's around, no one else exists to you. It's pathetic the way you followed him around yesterday."

"Just because I'm spending time with John doesn't mean I don't care about anyone else. I'm not my brother."

"No, you're a little, lost puppy dog," he said mockingly.

Wanda stood up so she hovered over Lance. She whispered in case John might be listening from the bathroom. "Maybe I am lost, like that night we went to the movies (5), but I'm feeling things again. I don't know why, but it happens when I'm around him."

"So you're using him. That's so much better."

"Eat blanket." Wanda hexed the comforter to roll up Lance like a pig in a blanket. He fell into the space between the bed and the wall. "I'm trying to get my life back. He's helping. What are you doing? If you don't like it, go shove your head in an oven. I'm going back to my room."

Lance wiggled into a sitting position and solemnly watched her leave, wishing there was a reason besides John that made her want to stay.

* * *

"Ready, Freddy?" Remy asked the big guy as they sat alone in Remy, John, and Lance's room. 

Sitting at the hotel room table, he shook his head. "I'm nervous."

The Cajun casually waltzed across the room and sat on top of the bolted piece of furniture. He flashed Fred a calm, confident smile. "I'm not. You'll do great. You know why I picked you, homme? You have a very nice voice." _And you can sound dumb, innocent, and scary all within a matter of seconds._

"But I'm no good talking to people."

"Dat's why you have a script. Don' be afraid to read it." Remy pushed a piece of notebook paper towards him. "Don' fret. You'll easily get what we need." Remy handed Fred a pre-paid cell phone. "The number's already in the phone. You have fifteen minutes before de work day is over. Press send when you're ready."

Remy stood up and gave the guy some breathing room. He had already made the others leave, because they made Fred even more nervous. All but Sabertooth had gone into the Pietro's and Wanda's room and shut the door between them. Remy knew they were still listening, the walls weren't that thick, but as long as Freddy couldn't see them watching him, he was better.

Fred took a deep breath and pressed the send button. He spoke slowly and choppy. "Hello, my name is Frederick F. Stone. I'm with Aardvark Security. Who is the person in charge of contracting your security services?"

Remy watched Freddy's face grow red and his hand clench the small phone tighter. "YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE RUDE! I should come down there and smash - " Freddy stopped when Remy started waving him down. Freddy coughed and looked back at the script. "I mean, who is your current company? Perhaps our deals - "

This time Freddy was able to keep his cool. "Did you know that our digital security cameras cost ten percent less and get twice the amount of pixels than - " Freddy pulled his face away from the phone. "That hag hung up on me!" He pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'll go down there right now and teach her a thing or two."

Remy stood between the large man and the door. He put his hands on Freddy's shoulders pretending to hold him back. "You can crush de reception desk to crumbs dis weekend. Did you get de name of de company?"

Fred nodded. "Defcon Secure Technologies."

Remy smiled and patted Freddy on the back. "Great job, mon ami! Here, have a lollipop." Remy pulled a sucker from one of his pockets and handed it to Fred.

Remy ran into Pietro and Wanda's room. "Tomorrow we stalk Defcon. Meet back here at 8:00 am shrap."

"8:00 am? Who do you think you're talking to? If getting these slackers up for training at 11:00 am doesn't work, than 8:00 am is out of the question. Yesterday was the first day they've seen the morning sun," Pietro argued.

Remy's face grew dark. He addressed everyone. "You don' want ta know what I'll do to dose sleepin' at 8:00 am." Toad gulped.

Again Pietro challenged Remy. "Are these threats suppose to mean something? How would you even get into our rooms?"

"He's a thief, dumbass," said Wanda.

"Really, Norma. Know who you're dealing with," John added.

Remy took a step closer to the speed demon and bent down to look him in the eye. He spoke softly. "I've also led mutants ten times more violent, threatening, and powerful den you. Trust me, I'm goin' easy on you."

The room grew silent until John exclaimed, "Who wants to go swimming?" The crew filed out slowly around the staring contest going on between Pietro and Remy. Remy straighted up when he and Pietro were the only ones left in the room.

It wasn't until Wanda came out of the bathroom in her bathing suit that they broke contact. "I'd tell you two to get a room, but you can have this one while I'm gone. Stay off my bed."

Having successfully completed his goal of humiliating Pietro into service, Remy silently left the room. Pietro breathed a sigh of relief. He had one conclusion from his altercation: "That guy needs to get laid."

Pietro's head snapped in Wanda's direction, for the first time realizing what she was wearing. He zipped into the bathroom and held a towel in front of her. "No sister of mine is wearing that in public." He pointed to her black, low cut one-piece bathing suit.

Wanda hexed the towel to wrap around his head like a blinding turban. "Get over yourself." The boys' jaws dropped when she walked into the other room. She reminded herself to thank Rogue for letting her borrow her old swim suit.

* * *

(1) Branleur is a French insult equivalent to wanker or insignificant/stupid person.  
(2) Who would win: astronauts or cavemen? Reoccurring joke during fifth season of _Angel_ (the only good season IMO). I guess it started backstage and they worked it into a script somewhere along the line. Personally, I think the ultimate battle to see would be between ninjas and pirates.  
(3) Reference to _Gilmore Girls_ season 2 when Luke was discouraging Loreali from marrying Max by telling her it took his father twenty years to find the coupon drawer after his wife died because they never communicated.  
(4) In _Way of the Gun_, Salsipuedes is the city where the guys hang out. According to IMDB, salsipuedes translates to "get out if you can", and from my limited Spanish, it seems right (salir is to leave, si is if, and puedes is you can). The motel was actually Nacio Madre, but I thought the other word was cooler.  
(5) Wanda freaked out after she, Lance, Todd, and Fred went to the movies in November Rain: Chapter 9: What's Your Plan? 

**Next up**: The Brotherhood mission part I.


	17. Working Overtime

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Seventeen: Working Overtime **

In front of the full length mirror, Pietro shook his head. "You should have let me pick out the suit, Cajun. A millionaire would never wear this. You're lucky I look good in anything." He tipped his matching fedora to the side.

Remy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wanda, I need your painkillers."

The witch didn't look up from her book. "No."

Instead of putting up a fight, he went into his room. "How's it comin', Freddy?"

"Better now."

Fred turned around, and Remy was surprised; he was in a black T-shirt and ball cap "What? Where's de suit I swiped fo' you?"

John shook his head. "Lost cause, mate. Besides, he's the bodyguard. They don't have to wear suits. All black'll do."

"Fine." Remy sighed. "I never d'ought there'd be a day I'd wish Jason was here. Dis would be a hell o' a lot easier."

Todd didn't turn from the television showing the Macy's Day pre-Parade show. "No kidding. We coulda stayed in bed."

Wanda stood in the connecting doorway. "I'd rather get up early than spend time with Mastermind."

Pietro raced by his sister to stand in the center of the room. "That's because you don't have to deal with a crazy witch low on her beauty sleep."

Wanda got in position to hex him,b but Remy got in the way. "No attempted fratricide in de suit." Pietro stuck his tongue out at his sister.

"And when he gets out of it?" she growled.

"Free reign." A wicked smile spread across the witch's face. Pietro gulped.

Remy walked away from the twins to the bathroom and knocked. "You strangle yourself, homme?"

Lance, slicked back hair and all, emerged from the bathroom in another stolen suit. He looked down at a thin piece of silk around his neck. "I'd have to tie it right first."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "You'd think since men invented it they wouldn't need a woman to put it on." Wanda casually walked over and hexed Lance's tie into a perfect knot. He smiled and tucked it into his jacket.

Remy shoved Pietro out of the center of the room. "I'm gonna go over this one more time. - "

"Again?" Pietro whined. "We got it already. Except the part where Lance is my assistant. A guy like me needs a young, sexy thing."

"You aren't the only one complaining," Lance added.

Remy hit the entertainment cabinet and turned off the television. "Shut up and listen! Pietro, you are now a wealthy recluse. You're lookin' for security for your new beach house. Lance is your assistant. I'm not hirin' a woman to pretend to be your assistant because you're a homophobe."

"I'm not a homophobe, and what's wrong with Wanda?" Pietro had ulterior motives for wanting Wanda to join him. If she was with him on this mission, then she wouldn't be spending time with St. John.

"I can' make Wanda your assistant because one, she'll try and kill you - "

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Try?"

"- and, two, she's mildly attractive, and if you're not flirtin' with her, de Defcon woman will t'ink you're gay, losin' our edge for you to sweet-talk her into giving you de information we need. I pulled a lot o' strings to get a tour on short notice on de holiday, so don't upset her."

"Yo, what if it's a man?" Todd piped in.

"Den he flirts with Lance. See, win-win situation." Everyone except Pietro, Lance, and Remy laughed.

"He's not my type. He's all dirty and grimy. Too Danny Zuko minus the good hair (1)," Pietro objected.

"So you've thought about it?" John joked.

Remy managed to trip Pietro on his way to strangle the Aussie. He continued with the briefing. "Fred is your bodyguard." Remy ignored the peanut gallery as they started humming of Whitney Houston (2). "He's d'ere for image and back-up if you screw up. You guys need to find out what it takes to set off an alarm, de procedure Defcon goes t'rough when an alarm is tripped for real and a false alarm, what equipment dey have, and what identification dey have to get into a buildin'. If you can manage, get de security specs for de Pow-R8 buildin' too. T'ink you can handle it?"

"No problem. Who do you think you're talking to?"

* * *

Thirty minutes after the trio entered Defcon Secure Technology, Remy could see a ruckus going on in the lobby of the building. "Dis can't be good," he mumbled.

"Let me see," begged John. Snatching the binoculars, he gasped. "Forty-five cent burgers?!"

Remy recovered his equipment and sent John to get the Toad and Scarlet Witch ready if they needed to fight. Back at Defcon, Remy identified a blur and, a few seconds later, Blob and Avalanche ran from the building.

It didn't take long for Pietro to reach the lookout point a few buildings away. "Whatever they say, it was not my fault. My sixth sense must be jammed by you two." He pointed at John and Remy.

John wondered what Pietro was talking about, but Remy was all business. "Are you bein' followed?"

"They couldn't follow me if they tried. I'm too fast." To illustrate his point, Pietro zipped around the empty loft apartment.

"What happened?" John interjected. He was ignored.

Remy could feel another headache coming on. "Are dey followin' Lance and Fred?"

"No. Why would anyone want to do that? If they have such good taste to be into me, they wouldn't stoop so low as to settle for those two."

"What happened?" Again, no one listened.

Remy's head fell in his palm. "Just tell me you got de info."

Pietro stepped back. "Kind of. See - "

The leader's expression grew dark. "'Kind of' is not the right - "

"Yes, it is." Pietro opened his suit jacket. Several DVDs fell to the ground. "I swiped their training videos."

Remy bent over and examined one. "Not what I had in mind, but it'll do."

Gasping, Lance made it up the several flights of stairs, Fred behind him yet. Lance bent over to regain his breath, then started making strange noises. It wasn't for another thirty seconds that Remy figured out he was trying to laugh.

Finally he was able to form a sentence. "I wish we had a video camera, because that was priceless!"

The suspense was killing John. "What happened?" he exclaimed.

Wanda was getting annoyed at John's incessant questioning, like a kid on long car ride. "Someone tell him or be hexed!"

Lance stepped up to the plate. "Pietro was striking out with the tour guide, so he grabbed her ass."

The speed demon crossed his arms. "My gay-dar is malfunctioning. Why is a hot girl like that a lesbian anyway? It's a crime. She might even be able to get a man of my caliber."

"Freddy figured it out two minutes in. He asked me why she kept fingering her rainbow pendant whenever you hit on her."

"I thought she was embarrassed for wearing something so tacky. You could have - "

"Enough," Remy shouted over the laughing. "We got three discs and less than six hours to make our next move. We don' have time to waste."

As the troop filed downstairs, Wanda leaned over and whispered to John, "Remy takes this pretty seriously, doesn't he?"

"He takes everything too seriously." He glanced at his friend two people ahead of him. "Though he does seem much more focused this time."

Pietro wedged himself between John and Wanda. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: He needs to get laid."

To regain her position, Wanda shoved her brother forward into Lance. Both stumbled, but neither fell. "He cheats on Rogue, and I'll rip out his heart."

Pietro stood up straighter and tried to block Wanda's path down the stairs. "What? They're still dating? That's ludicrous."

Remy, listening to their entire conversation, turned around. "What's so 'ludicrous' 'bout it?"

"Please, anyone that's met you knows you're a player, not a lover. You two had a fight two days ago. Have you called her back? Or picked up the phone one of the many times she called you? Sounds like you're over to me."

"Some people don't treat relationships as Kleenex like you do, Pietro," Wanda chimed in and shoved him again.

Pietro glared at John over Wanda's shoulder. "No, they hold onto them like rock stars on reunion tours. They don't know when to call it quits."

Remy spoke through clenched teeth. "We have a job to do, and it don' include unsolicited advice from brown-nosed Daddy's boys." He turned, and the others followed him out of the building.

* * *

As they fast-forwarded past another insignificant part of the training videos, Wanda slid off the bed. She tapped on St. John's shoulder as she passed, waking him from his stupor. She nodded her head toward her and Pietro's room. John stood up, grabbing his legal pad, and followed her. He moved to shut the door behind them, but Wanda shook her head.

"Pietro will lose interest in the bubble wrap he won if he hears the door shut."

John smiled. "You mean the bubble wrap you lost."

Wanda crossed her arms. "'I never lose. I just chose not to win.' (3)"

"I knew you were going soft."

"What is going on with you?"

He held up his legal pad and pointed. "I drew a fish!"

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Why are you acting strange around me?"

Now it was John's turn to look confused. "Strange is my state of being."

"I meant strange relatively. Ever since you came down with the curse of the Dixie cup bladder, you've either been avoiding me or not yourself. And it's only with me. I've watched you with Remy and Lance and you act normal - well, normal for you - around them."

John shrugged. "What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've been the one avoiding me. Not the other way around."

"You're crazy."

"So I say, but so are you. You hung out with Toad this morning! That's fishy and fishy-smelling."

She crossed her arms and looked at the carbon-copied painting on the wall. "I'm not a puppy."

The Aussie breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you've figured that out."

She faced him, glaring. "I'm not a pathetic puppy following you around. I am my own person, and I'm not defined by you. I have other friends I like to spend my time with, and why are you smiling like that?"

John was grinning from ear to ear and bouncing lightly on the bed. "Isn't this the part where you whip off your bra and light it on fire?" He pulled out a lighter from his pocket. "I can help you with the fire if you need it. Women's liberation, yippee!" The flame danced around like a bouncy ball.

Wanda stood with wide eyes and an open mouth. "The world would be dust if you were around in the sixties."

John's face fell slightly. "Does this mean no underwear fire?"

Wanda started to shake her head, and then she got an idea. She rummaged through a bag sitting neatly on the luggage stand. She tossed a few pairs of her brother's underwear at the Aussie. "Here, you can light these up." John giggled and ran to the bathroom. Leaning on the doorframe while flames stretched up the sides of the bathtub, Wanda asked her question again. "So what is wrong with you?" 

John turned away from the fire to look at her. She was the only person he had met who had been able to do that: divert his attention from fire to her with a mere word. Most people needed flashing lights, shiny objects, or screams.

He shrugged and brought a little fire above his palm, but he couldn't think of a way to answer her. He wanted to tell her that her father was a miserable lowlife who has to brainwash his kids so he can have a family. _And by "brainwashing his kids", I mean you and we used to date and have fun and make-out, and you don't remember any of it, and it's killing me_.

The witch grew impatient and started speculating. "Is it my brother? Did he say something - "

Flopping on the toilet, he extinguished the fire in his hand, but the fire in the tub flamed up shortly. "No, it's not your twerp of a brother."

"What then? Did I do something?"

He shook his head.

She growled. "Tell me!"

John looked up. The fire reflected in her eyes, and her hands glowed blue. Maybe he could tell her. She'd believe him by now, right? Then he remembered the last night he spent in the old Wanda's company. They were practically inseparable then, and she accepted her father's lies over his words (4).

He turned his gaze downwards and fiddled with his hands. "I fell in a funk; it happens sometimes."

Wanda didn't buy it. "You're such a - "

Remy poked his head into the other room. "Hey! You need to be in here." John, thankful for the interruption, stood up.

The witch hexed John back on the toilet and turned to Remy. "Why? You and Pietro are doing the undercover work. All we have to do is jump the van."

"In case we have another screw up like dis morning. Other room now! And put out dat fire in dere, John. I don' care what you're burning."

Wanda was not about to move. She crossed her arms and began a glaring contest with the Cajun. 

"I don' have time fo' dis."Remy harshly pulled her out of the door frame and threw her toward her bed.

"Don't touch her!" John shouted and tried to tackle him, but he was still stuck to the toilet. 

John's shout distracted Remy; the Scarlet Witch was able to surprise him with a hexed door banging his face and stubbing his foot.

All the shouting brought Pietro into a room with a cursing Cajun hopping on one foot and holding his forehead, an Aussie hexed to the toilet in a dark bathroom with a fire in the tub, and his sister closing the door. He rushed to shove his foot in the door. "I don't care what you were doing with him in there before, but you aren't doing it now!" Pietro snatched her wrist. She launched a hex bolt but it hit the gathering crowd between the two hotel rooms instead.

"Let go, Pietro!" she growled.

"No! You're being stupid!"

She tried to hex him again, but missed. "I thought I told you to stay out of my way!"

"I can't do that. I'm your brother whether anyone here likes it or not! I didn't do anything before, but I'm doing something now!"

Wanda stopped struggling and narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about, 'before'?" Pietro froze with fear.

Recovered, Remy came up behind the twins. "Pietro, everything handled here?"

The speed demon nodded, though his eyes were locked with Wanda's.

"Good. John." Remy nodded for the pyromaniac to come out. The hex having worn off, he slipped past the Maximoffs and went into the next room. The other boys followed and closed the door. Mostly.

Now that it was only the two of them in the room, Wanda asked her brother again: "What did you mean, 'before'?"

"I meant before . . .before we left. Before we left Bayville. I should have told Dad, and he would have put an end to this. How do you think he'll like the fact you're seeing one of his employees?"

Dad? She hadn't even considered him in the her and John equation. John did live and work with him. _But he'll understand, won't he? _She set her jaw. "I'll make him understand, like I did when I insisted I come on the mission."

Pietro shook his head. "He won't."

"He will."

"He won't."

"He will."

"He won't, believe me. Now come back to the briefing."

Defiantly, Wanda shoved Pietro aside and sat on her bed. She hexed on the television. Her deadly gaze followed Pietro as he sighed and left the room. When he opened the door, the rest of the boys fell forward. Her brother took one last pleading look at her before leaving. Wanda saw something else in his glance: _That wasn't what he meant by 'before'._

* * *

"Do your t'ing, Toad," Remy said into his headset.

The mutant hopped from his perch, carefully staying in the camera's blind spots. He encased the main camera watching the Pow-R8 employee entrance in his slime.

With his portion of the job completed, he hurried to the rendezvous point. By the time Toad got to the alley, the Scarlet Witch was hexing the Defcon van. The van pulled into the alley and stopped short of Sabertooth. He growled.

The jaws of the two security agents dropped. Fearing for their lives, they leapt out of the van into the waiting arms of Gambit and Blob. 

A voice sounded from the CB radio. "Is everything all right, 54?"

Avalanche slid into the passenger seat and picked up the mouthpiece. "Yeah, the van's acting up a bit, but we'll make it to the job. I think I should take it to garage afterwards. It sounds pretty bad."

"I'll send another car to pick you up."

Lance panicked a little. "No! I mean, who are you gonna send? There aren't that many people working today, and it'll be close to five by the time we're done here. I'll call home for a ride. Really, don't go through the trouble."

"Affirmative. Have a great holiday."

Lance breathed a sigh of relief and replaced the mic. After securing the two Defcon employees, Remy came over and patted him on the back. "Nice work."

Lance nodded. "You really gonna let Sabertooth take care of those two?"

"Why, you want to do it?"

"No, it's just - "

Remy remembered what he told Essex's newbie 'interns' the first time they were morally conflicted. "Don' t'ink 'bout it, mon ami. Remember why we're doin' dis."

"Oh. And what is that?"

Working for Magneto, Remy found the answer to this question came out easier than when he worked for Essex. "Dey be tryin' to market drinks dat dey know makes mutants sick. Who knows what dey'll t'ink of next? We gotta destroy the place and de research. It won' stop dem, but it'll slow 'em down for a few years."

"Yip-yip!" John called as he threw a pair of pants at the Cajun. They hit him square in the face. He pealed them off and glared at the laughing mutant. Remy growled and went into the back of the van to change.

John ran up to the van, leaned over Lance sitting in the passenger seat, and looked at the name tag on the work shirt he was holding. "You forgot something, Mr. Slabiak."

From the back of the van, Remy grumbled. "Merde. How much do you remember of de trainin' vids, Pyro?"

John's face grew blank before exclaiming, "I drew a fish!"

"That'll have to do, 'cause you're goin' in." Remy came forward so the others could see the security agent's pants, which ended inches above his ankles.

"What!" Pietro and John shouted in unison, then glared at each other.

Pietro, already in the other man's uniform including the matching cap, jumped in the driver's seat. "I am not working with Vegetite brain. He uses a typewriter! He won't know how to copy the computer files!"

"It's VegeMITE, Norma. If you're going to insult me, do it right."

"You two are goin' in together, and you will not screw it up like last time. Quicksilver, you're doin' my job of copyin' de security system schematics and de security feed. Pyro, you're goin' to remove de slimed camera and install dis one. It has a special port in it so I can hack it wit' a laptop later. Someone, I don' care who, find out how much in-house security dey have at night and where and when dey take t'eir computer backups."

"Okay," the pyromaniac replied and paused. "How do I do that?"

Pietro threw another fit. "See! You can't have him going in. He doesn't know what he's doing! And don't forget, the Michael Jackson look is coming back."

"Only if you're Justin Timberlake."

"We're wastin' too much time!" Remy yelled over the bickering. "Sabertooth, finish your job, see you tomorrow. Avalanche, get out, turn on de phone, and take de others to de place we talked 'bout. I'll call you if we need you. Quicksilver, drive while Pyro changes." Remy grasped John's shoulders. "You'll do fine." He scanned the equipment in the van before falling on a set of headset communicators. Remy handed him one and put another on. "I'll hear most of what's goin' on and prompt you if you need it."

"Like Cyrano de Bergerac?"

Having no idea what the pyro was talking about, he nodded. "Sure, if it makes you happy."

John smiled. Then it faded. "My nose isn't big enough."

"Yes, it is," Pietro called before taking a sharp turn, knocking the two Acolytes into each other.

"If you get a chance wit' de receptionist, tell her you're doin' some analysis of t'eir in-house security systems to make sure dey are usin' de security equipment to de fullest and dere aren't any gaps." Remy grumbled as he stood up. He left John in the back to change and knelt behind the driver's seat, pulling the shoulder belt taunt across Pietro's chest. The van swerved as the driver struggled to breathe. The Cajun whispered into his ear. "I'm sick o' your shit, Speedy. You bein' de boss's son means nothin' to me. I have authority here. You risk dis mission 'cause of some petty argument, and you'll not only have me to deal wit' but Daddy too. So listen to what I say and don't screw up."

Letting go of the seatbelt, Remy hid in the back of the van as John moved forward to the passenger seat. They got into the parking garage no problem. Pietro and John exited silently and disappeared past security into the building.

* * *

Outside the employee entrance, St. John, or now Mr. Slabiak, stood on the top of a ladder staring at a security camera covered in green slime. He poked it with a pencil, then took a whiff. "Flying fox guano," he lied with affirmation. "A big one."

Sally the intern, who was showing the boys around, placed her hands on her waist and popped her hip. "Foxes don't fly. Are you sure you're from the company?"

Pietro threw his arms in the air and took a few steps closer. "Of course we are. What? Do you think we studied Defcon's employee training tapes, stole a van, put on these abominable uniforms by choice, and picked this day to execute our evil plan?"

Sally planted her feet. "But flying foxes? I may be so low on the totem pole that I have to collect data on the holidays, but I do have a B.S."

"The idiot means bats. You'd think living in a country a couple years you'd learn how to speak proper English. I guess some people are just slow."

John jumped off the last step of the ladder. "You call that prattle coming out of your mouth proper English, Yank?" With prompts from Remy coming from the headset, John to turned to Sally while scribbling on a clipboard. "Miss, I'll put in an order for your new camera, but that model is on backorder, so it'll be a few weeks. Meanwhile we'll hook up an older model we have in the van. The picture won't be as good, but it'll work."

Sally groaned. "Can't we just wash it off?"

Although unseasoned in electronics, John knew his shit. "Only if you like talking on the porcelain telephone."

Pietro turned Sally away from the Aussie. "He means you'll get sick." The speed demon shouted over his shoulder, "Why can't you ever say anything straight?"

"You're not one to talk about being straight."

Remembering Remy's threat, Pietro decided not to start a fight. "Look, we have a job to do. Let's just do it." He put on a smile and turned to Sally. "Would you mind showing me to the security center. I have to run a computer diagnostic." He winked.

She smiled. "Sure, cutie."

"I also have this survey of in-house security I have to do. We can't have all the security measures Defcon installed fail because there was a hole security. We'd look bad, no one would buy from us, and then we couldn't give you the dashing service you enjoy. So if you wouldn't mind, I have a few questions . . ." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she lead him back inside.

* * *

". . .great. I get to take off an hour early from work every Friday to exchange the week old back-ups in a safety deposit box at Old Kent Bank for the new ones, then spend the next forty-five minutes getting paid while I run errands or go to happy hour. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sorry, dollface. Normally, I'd love too, but I have to work."

"But you get out at five. You could meet me after - "

Pietro shook his head. "I'm working a different job tomorrow." He glanced at the computer screen. Downloading those security files onto disc was taking an eternity. He had finished his assignment getting the information out of the receptionist. It was the easiest job he had all week. She was straight, single, and loved to talk.

Sally huffed. "I wouldn't want to go out with a work-a-holic anyway." She paused, but she was one who liked small talk versus silence. "What's your second job?"

Pietro leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table below the security screens. "Baby-sitting my sister. She's a real troublemaker. Can't leave her alone for a second before she gets some dirty plot in her head." It wasn't a complete lie.

The intern got all giggly, imagining a cute, mischievous little ten- or eleven-year-old girl with platinum hair. "Awww, how old is she?"

"Sixteen."

Raising her eyebrow. "You have to baby-sit a sixteen-year-old?"

"She has horrible taste in men. And. . .she's sick." Pietro pretended to fiddle with something on the computer.

"Sick, how?" she wondered with genuine concern.

He stood up abruptly. The chair rolled backwards across the small room. "Sure, open a gigantic wound! There's a reason I left it at 'she's sick.' An idiot would have noticed the subtlety in my comment and not pressed me farther. Why'd you have to be so nosy? I didn't ask you why you have a lazy eye or what is so wrong with your personality that you don't have a boyfriend, 'cause with that body, aside from the eye, is pretty fine."

Never meeting his gaze, Sally stood up and smoothed out her skirt. "Well, then. I hope you finish your work quickly so you can leave. I'll be outside the door to show you out."

"No, wait. Stay. It'll be boring in here all alone." Pietro had spent enough time alone in tiny rooms lately. "Sorry. . . this week hasn't been the best, and this is the first time I haven't been around my sister and him," he pointed to John, who had finally hooked up the camera correctly, "and his friends. . . or my father," he mumbled the last softly. 

Sally smirked. "Bad taste in men? I wondered why you hated him so much: He's dating your sister. Makes perfect sense now. Despite what he said, you didn't come off as gay - "

Pietro's mood instantly changed. "Thank you! It has been so long since I've been around someone with more than a spec of social experience. I have new hope for the world."

"Sure. . . If you don't mind me asking, what's so bad about him? He seemed pretty nice."

"'What's so bad about him?' You've got to be kidding me." Pietro gestured toward the screens. "He's . . .he's selfish, that's what. He wants her because he obsessed and she makes him happy, not what's best for her and her health. And he doesn't respect me or my father, he gets her into trouble, encourages her crazy ideas, influences her, and what's worse- is he thinks he can make her better. It's ridiculous! It's his fault she's sick - "

Shocked, Sally interrupted him. "He give her an STD or something?"

The mutant covered his eyes. "GOD, NO! Don't put those images in my head! The stuff I see with my own eyes is horrible enough."

"How'd he get her sick then?"

Pietro rolled the chair back to the computer and slumped down. "It's complicated."

"Is that another one of those 'subtle' comments?"

"Yes." Pietro heard the CD drive pop out of the computer. "Yes!" He slammed the CD back into it's case and pocketed. "Now if the lamebrain will finish tinkering with that thing - "

Watching the monitors, Sally's eyes grew wide. "I think he's done." She pointed to one of the screens.

"Huh?" Pietro looked up and saw a black-and-white form of St. John, with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth, lying on the ground looking very much unconscious. "Did I mention he's an idiot?"

* * *

St. John threw open the door to the hotel room later that evening. "Party time!" He had made a full recovery since he had electrocuted himself that afternoon. He tried to remind Remy about his eternal battle with the microwave and practically all other complicated electronics, but the Cajun still made him hook up that camera.

The Aussie began doing a little dance in the doorway so Lance had to squeeze behind him. "I didn't think anything would be more boring than Magneto's briefings, but I was wrong. I wish I was the leader so I could decide I wasn't going to stupid Light Parade volunteer meetings. At least they fed us. But the worst part is I couldn't fall asleep."

"You probably could have if you weren't playing footsie the whole time," Lance complained.

"Wanda does not play footsie. She waits until you are almost to that peaceful dreamy place, you know, with the army of Amityville toasters and squishy grass, then she kicks your chair (5)."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Wanda opened the door and entered the boys room. "What are you two bickering about now?"

"Nothing," Lance claimed.

John had no embarrassment. "I was telling them you were torturing me by kicking my chair."

She smirked. "That way I'm still amused, and there aren't any telltale bruises."

John glanced over at Remy, who had not said anything since they returned. His friend was staring at a laptop screen, which was exactly the same position he was in when the others left for the Jacksonville Light Parade volunteer orientation meeting. "Please tell me you've moved on to porn." John looked over Remy's shoulder to a million open windows of floor layouts, camera coverage, and infrared sensors. 

"It doesn' make sense," the Cajun mumbled.

John reached up to close the top down on the computer, but Remy was quick to stop him. "You need to quit working and relax. We're going out on the town! I don't know what'll be open, but I'll find something. I always do."

Totally ignoring John's night plans, Remy pointed to the screen. "D'ese floors are not in any of de blueprints Magento got, but de have nearly as much surveillance as de lobbies."

"Maybe they were and you don't remember."

Pushing back his chair, Remy went to his bag and pulled out the aforementioned plans. He threw them on the bed. "Dey aren' d'ere!"

John peered at the plans and rubbed his chin. "Extra storage? Employee work-out room? Cock-fighting arena?"

"Internet peep show?" Wanda suggested.

Remy shook his head again and sat back down in front of the computer. "Doesn' make sense."

The Aussie straightened up and shrugged. "What can you do about it now? We'll check it out on Saturday. We'll be extra careful in case that's where they keep the dryer sock gnomes. I won't wear any and then they won't come after me. Now get your jacket. There's got to be a bar open somewhere."

He took his seat in front of the computer again. "Can' do dat 'til I figure dis out. You go. Text me and I'll meet you dere."

The others stared to file out of the room, but John hung back. "You really should get out. If you figure this out tonight, what are you going to do tomorrow?"

"I'll be fine."

"I know! If you figure this out tonight, you'll have time to call and make up with Rogue, tomorrow!"

The Cajun growled. "Time to go, John-boy."

St. John managed to squeeze in one last serious note before Remy kicked him out: "You should listen to me, I'm smart! The shelia says so."

After he shut the door, Remy flipped John's key card he swiped from John's back pocket onto the table. The Aussie began banging on the door shortly after.

Wanda stood between Remy and the computer. He tried to brush past her, but she wouldn't let him.

"He's smart, neh?" asked Remy with a smile.

"I said he wasn't as stupid as he wanted people to think. Big difference." Wanda pointed to the laptop behind her. "Whether you figure this thing out or not, you need to call Rogue."

The Cajun growled. "I'll call her when I feel like it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Call her. Either make up or break up. You will not keep dangling her like cat toy."

Remy pointed to nothing in particular. "She's de one who's playin' de games! I'm not de one who needs to explain myself."

"Rogue doesn't have a clue what she's doing. Besides, how can she explain herself when you won't talk to her?"

"She's not callin' to tell me anythin'. She's only callin' to make herself feel better 'bout lyin'."

"So you listened to her messages?"

"Well, no. All she did was cuss at me in de first two, so I deleted de rest."

"What a brilliant communicator. How is it you can plan a successful job working with the most incompetent of mutants, yet you can't figure out how to keep a girl?"

"Stop talkin' 'bout stuff you don' understand. You're 'bout as bad as your brother."

A murderous glint flashed in her eyes as she hexed the Cajun into an embracing arm chair. Wanda leaned over to look in his eyes as the chair squeezed the air out of him. "For the sake of Rogue's heart, I will not kill you." She chucked his cell phone at him as she left the room.

* * *

Unable to follow John's or Wanda's advice, Remy found himself sneaking into Pow-R8. Since he had the security specs, it was easy enough to get himself in without sending an alarm. He knew where the cameras and infrared grids were. Piece of cake.

The thief slid his bow staff between the elevator doors and pried them open. He kept his body against the wall and slid underneath the main camera. He unscrewed a bolt that kept the camera's position steady and let it drop to the floor. When he removed his hand from the camera, it dropped down, giving security a nice view of the bolt that "fell" from the camera to the floor. 

With the main camera out of commission, he took in his surroundings. There were several hallways lined with small floorlight runners reminding Remy of a movie theater. He took off toward the nearest one.

According to the security plans, there were several rooms lining both sides of the hallway, each with their own camera inside pointed at the door. Remy thought he would have to find another point of entry to a room, an air duct or the floor wiring crawl space, but there was no need. They weren't rooms. They were barred cells with the camera focused on the cell door. He had seen a place like this before. This was more than a secret laboratory. It was a holding space for human experiments. 

Remy heard someone shuffling around in the nearest cell. He ducked around the corner.

"Working overtime?" it called. When Remy didn't reply, he heard a cot squeak and shuffled footsteps coming to the bars. "Poking us with a stick or a needle tonight? It'd like to see you come around here when that power damper you got from the Devil ain't working."

Taking a card out of his pocket, he charged it. It glowed bright, then faded quickly. There was a power damper working down here. Remy gulped. They were mutants, too. He knew the Devil the man spoke of. It was happening again. No matter where he ran, his past always caught up with him.

The thief stuck his head around the corner and looked into a set of eyes colored like his own.

"YOU!"

* * *

(1) Danny Zuko, main character in _Grease_.  
(2) Referring to the Whitney Houston movie _Bodyguard_ where she sings a number of her songs including the cover of "I Will Always Love You." Definitely NOT a required viewing.  
(3) Quote from _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_, episode "Terror of the Black Night". Spoken by Mandy, of course.  
(4) Back in Nine to Five: Chapter 20 - The Feces Hits the Fan, after Magneto caught Wanda and John making out on the couch.  
(5) An "Amityville toaster" was featured in a Foamy the Squirrel 'toon. If you are of age, visit illwillpress. com and check it out. One of my favorite Foamys.

**Next Up: **The Brotherhood shake up Jacksonville!


	18. See the Resemblance

**  
Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Eighteen: See the Resemblance**

Leaning on a seventies avocado-green washer while the boys played arcade games in a laundromat was not how Wanda wanted to spend her night. After a quick head count, she noticed someone was missing from the group. She pushed the glass door. His head twitched when he heard the shouts coming from inside the building, but he didn't look at her.

Wanda sat down on the curb beside him. She could hear Rogue's voice in her head telling her to talk with him but no words came. _Talk to him about what?_ Any question that popped into her head sounded contrived, unnatural, and stupid. "Be yourself," the voice told her. _"Be yourself?" ha, ha. That's a joke. I don't even know who I am, so how can I possibly be myself? Maybe he'll say something. _ She peeked over out of the corner of her eye. He was taking another drag on his cigarette, staring out into the empty, littered street. Suddenly, an anger formed inside her. He was acting funny again. If anyone else sat down next to him, he'd be jabbering their ear off by now. Finally, she was able to overcome her inhibitions. "In another one of your 'funks'?"

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and studied it. "Nope."

"What the hell's the matter with you then?"

"Pouting."

"Still?"

"Yep."

"It's only a game."

"But it's my game, and that bum beat me!"

"Ms. Pac-man is your game?"

He turned his head and smiled. The embers from his cigarette flared up and made a bow atop his head. "Don't you see the resemblance?"

Wanda rolled her eyes and hid a small smile. "Can't believe I didn't put two and two together before."

He grinned. "No, just four, not before."

Wanda leaned back on her hands, stretching out. "Welcome back, John."

He looked down and patted himself. "I'm back? Wow! I didn't even realize I was gone."

The witch nodded. "You were, you bi-polar idiot. Get back on your medication."

"Good idea." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white pill bottle. "Want some?"

Thinking it was actually medication, the witch shook her head.

John took her surprised expression as a no and shook the container in front of her. "You sure? I've already eaten all the Betties, but there might be some Dinos left. Oh, and the grape ones. I don't eat the grape. Yuck."

"Flintstone vitamins?" She took the bottle from his hand. "I didn't know they still made these. That brings me back." She handed it back to the pyromaniac.

The color left John's face. "Back where?"

"_Back to the Future_. Where do you think?"

"No, really."

The sudden seriousness in John's voice truly puzzled her. What do a few childhood memories matter to him? Rogue's voice rang through her head once more: Talk to him. She played with her rings as she spoke. "Pietro and I took those when we were kids. He didn't like them much and would pretend to take them then hide them in our toy box." She smiled. "He got in so much trouble when Father found out."

Instead of laughing at Pietro's pain, John stayed silent. He looked almost disappointed. Wanda didn't get it. 

As he stared at the butt of his cigarette, he begin to say something but changed his mind. A few seconds later he mumbled. "There's something wrong with that boy. Who couldn't love the Flintstones?"

"You're figuring this out now?"

Before John could answer, the doors to the laundromat opened. "Hey, you guys gotta see this! Pietro is getting it handed to him in Mortal Combat by that homeless guy," Freddy announced, before going back to watch the game.

Wanda nodded toward the laundromat. "You wanna go watch?"

While snubbing the butt of his cigarette on the asphalt, John shook his head. "I don't want to go through any more torture today."

"No one tortured you today besides me."

"That's not torture. Torture is working with your brother all afternoon."

"You'd rather get beaten up by a girl than work with my brother?"

"Yes. Bruises and cuts go away. Mental anguish and the minutes wasted listening to Norma don't."

"So if I were to threaten to . . . hex your body to fit into one of those tiny washers or go watch Pietro get upset because he's losing to an ugly bum, you'd rather get squeaky clean?"

John nodded vigorously. "There are things worse than being compacted and drenched."

The witch shook her head. She didn't get it. What could be worse than pain and possibly death? "You are insane."

"I think we've established that several times now. Are you expecting an argument from me?"

"No, I was reminding myself that you and logic aren't on the same plane of existence."

"It's logical to threaten to hurt people?"

"Yes, because everyone fears pain."

"But there are things people fear more than pain. Betrayal, treachery, all those ninth circle of Hell things, the One Ring, politicians, spiders, peeps - "

"Peeps?"

"Only the purple kind." He shuddered.

"How can you be frightened of marshmallow chickens?"

"How can you not?"

Wanda chuckled.

That hit a sore spot with John. "If my fear's so silly, what's yours? Don't tell me: It's grown men in sequined jumpsuits."

"No, I think that's gross, not scary." She searched through her memories, trying to think of something she was truly afraid of. She couldn't find one thing. She would touch on something, and then her memory would get fuzzy and become something else. Massaging her temples, she struggled to focus. Then it became clear. "Abandonment, probably. I'd rather be dead than left alone somewhere."

Her answer made John smile. She thought it was because he liked to tease her, but he was excited her greatest fear was the same despite her new memories. "Really? I thought little Miss Anti-social liked to be alone."

"There's a difference between choosing to be alone and being cast off like pocket lint."

"You shouldn't have to worry about that. Pocket lint may burn better, but you're cuter."

Before Wanda could roll her eyes and hide her blush, Lance came out of the building with a pop can. "You missed it! But I think there's going to be a rematch." He started back inside but stopped when he realized no one was following. "What's the deal?"

"I'd rather have the sheila here stuff me into a dryer then spend another minute with Pietro."

"So would I, but he's losing! It's funny when he's pissed."

"I want to get pissed. There has got to be some place open. Rocky, you sense any bass vibrations around?"

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"You can make vibrations in the ground. Shouldn't you be able to feel them?"

"You sure you're not drunk already?"

"Give it a try."

Lance sent a pleading look to Wanda. She shrugged. "I'm curious."

He sighed and closed his eyes. After a few seconds he said, "Nope, nothing."

"Try putting your hand - or your ear - to the ground."

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm not doing that." He leaned against a telephone pole.

"You want to stay here all night, fine."

Lance rolled his eyes and knelt down. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the ground. A half-minute later he shook himself and stood up. Something caught his eye on the telephone pole. "Oberon, 975 State Avenue."

Flabbergasted, John slapped Lance's shoulders. "I knew you could do it! I can't believe how accurate it is."

Lance brushed away the Aussie, then ripped a bright orange flyer off the pole. He dangled the paper in front of John. "I can read; what a miracle."

He took the flyer and shrugged. "Let's go!" John started off down the street. When no one followed he turned around. "What are you doing 'standing out there like one o'clock half-struck'? (1)"

Wanda stood up to follow, but a look from Lance called her a pathetic lost puppy. "I don't want to be here when Pietro runs out of quarters. You coming?"

Thumbing over his shoulder, Lance replied, "State Avenue's back this way."

* * *

"And I thought your 'ear to the ground' idea was stupid."

"It's a great idea, and it'll work."

"Saying that a hundred more times won't make it work."

"You haven't brought any ideas to the table on how to get into a twenty-one-and-over brewery."

Across the street from the Oberon, Lance stood up from the shadows. "I'm going through the front door."

"You're crazy!" John shouted from his hiding spot. Lance got in line and didn't look back.

"That phrase has no meaning coming from you," Wanda commented and stood up.

John put on his best puppy-dog face. "Are you leaving me too?"

"No. Someone has to keep you out of jail."

With a new enthusiasm, John repeated his plan. "We won't go to jail. We just have to pretend we're roadies for the band."

The witch pointed to the van parked next to the bar's side entrance. "They don't have any roadies."

John grabbed Wanda's hand and hurried over to the bar. "They do now."

There were only a few pieces of equipment left in the vehicle. John grabbed one of the remaining cases, and Wanda followed suit. The Aussie shook out any nervousness and prepared to play a part while Wanda followed close behind, her eyes shifting with paranoia. She stiffened when they bumped into one of the band members.

Luckily, John was a fast talker: It was something he picked up having spent so much time with Pietro. "Hey, man! Saw your last show, you were great! Thought I'd lend you a hand." He raised up the case he was carrying. "I hope you play that one song about the thing with the yahoo and the dum-do-da - you know the one. Later." Leaving one bewildered band member in their wake, the duo headed deeper into the club. 

Wanda leaned forward to whisper in John's ear. "I can't believe it. You're plan actually worked!"

"We're not out of the frying pan yet, luv." As if on cue, two more band members were waiting on the side stage.

One gaped at them. "What are you doing with my drums?"

John grinned. "Hey, man! Good to see you again. You looked like your hands were full so me and my girl thought we'd lend a hand." Wanda blushed and stiffened when John called her his girl. The Aussie didn't notice as he placed the cases on the ground. "Break a leg!"

John started to walk off the small stage toward the floor, but one of the musicians blocked him. "Hold on there. Where do you think you're going?"

He pointed to the small crowd. "Down there with the rest of the fans."

Again he tried to leave the stage, and, again, he was stopped by a hand on his chest. "You think you're the first kid to try and sneak in like this?"

"Me? No, I'm legal. As legal as legal can get." John nodded a little too enthusiastically. 

"Right," the musician replied sarcastically. "How 'bout you and your tart get outta here."

"Tart?!" Wanda fumed. The lights flickered, and the building moaned. She stepped in front of the Aussie. "How about you let us pass before I bring this place down on top of you?"

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, looking at the groaning ceiling, but he continued to block their path.

Her hands glowed blue. Her magic spread to encompass the instrument she was still holding. "You have 'til the count of three. One. . ."

"What are you doing to my cymbals?" he exclaimed.

"Two. . ."

"Give me my cymbals, mutie, and I'll look the other way," he pleaded.

She was about to hex the drummer to Timbuktu, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. With his eyes, John asked her to let it go and not cause a scene. They were supposed to keep a low-profile for the job. Wanda powered down and handed the guy the case, but her face was still sour. "You'll regret that remark."

John followed the confident witch down to the floor. "Told you death threats aren't always the best."

"The only reason he wasn't wetting his pants was because he hadn't realized that I could really bring the building down."

"I was right," he sang tauntingly.

"Whatever."

"Does your denial make your feel special inside?"

Safely immersed in the crowd, Wanda aimed a hex bolt at the drummer. He tripped and landed flat on his face. Wanda smirked. "No, but that does."

* * *

There were two people breaking a move on the dance floor: A skinny woman in her fifties in a red dress (2) and an orange-haired Australian. Neither of them were good dancers, but they were having a good time. Finally he spotted someone with the same amount of pep as he had.

Wanda was standing to the side of the dance floor, a plastic cup of beer in one hand and her head in the other. She didn't notice him until he started yelling over the music. "How long 'til the cops come to pick you up?"

At first Wanda glared angrily over her shoulder, expecting a pun-like pick-up line to follow. Her face grew softer after she recognized Lance. "The day before their funeral."

He nodded to the cup in her hand. "I didn't know you liked beer."

"It's not mine. I'm not supposed to drink with my medication."

"You still getting those headaches?"

She nodded. "They weren't as bad today as they were on the train. I can't wait until I get something that actually works."

Lance glanced at the dance floor, hoping John would stay out there for as long as possible. The more time John spent with Wanda, the more likely she'd keep getting headaches, and there might be a repeat of the train episode. "Me too."

In accordance with Murphy's Law, John bounded over to them. "They let you in? And where did you get that?" He pointed to the glass bottle of ale Lance held in his hand.

The earthshaker felt like he was answering the naive questions of a two-year-old. "The same place you got yours."

Wanda snickered and handed John's beer to him. "You stole that off someone else's table when they weren't looking?"

Lance scrunched his face in disgust. "No, I got it from the bar. They check you're ID at the door so they don't have to check it at the bar."

"Yippee! Wait, I don't have any money."

Ignoring John's conversation with himself, Wanda asked Lance, "How did you get past the bouncer anyway?"

Lance reached into his back pocket and pulled out a laminated card. She read it. "Dominic Petros (3)? You couldn't find a fake ID with a better name? Can you even pronoun your middle name?"

"Doesn't matter; I got in."

The band started a new song, drowning out any conversation anyone was hoping to have.

* * *

The night went on, with John running back and forth from the dance floor, Lance drinking and swaying in his chair, Wanda sporadically hexing the drummer and pouting about the music. Eventually John tricked her into going out onto the dance floor with him for a few numbers.

At a set break, John collapsed at the table Wanda and Lance had confiscated. "What did you do with the big bald guy that was sitting here?"

The witch smirked. "He's easily frightened."

Lance nodded. "It was a little disappointing. Hex, almost drown in his beer, run away screaming. Toad's lasted longer."

The boys continued talking, not noticing that Wanda was strangely silent. John glanced over when he heard an incessant tapping. Wanda's rings were clinking against the table as her hands shook. Following her unblinking gaze, he saw a male nurse or intern still dressed in his scrubs drinking with a group of people.

Although John felt a little hurt that she was staring at this strange guy, he tried to play it cool. He leaned over with a teasing smile on his face. "Didn't know you liked men in uniform, shei. . . " He stopped talking, and his mouth hung open. It wasn't admiration in Wanda's eyes but fear. This guy in his scrubs looked very similar to the asylum guards in uniform. But, how did Wanda know?

John waved his hand in front of her face. Wanda blinked and looked at the Aussie. Her hands stopped shaking. "What?" she said irritably.

He pointed to the nurse. "Do you know that guy or something?"

Out of the corner of her eye, her gaze lingered on the nurse. "No." When she focused back on John, her expression was full of suspicion. "Do you?"

Shaking his head, John replied. "Nope, but I wasn't the one gawking at him."

Abruptly Wanda stood up, knocking her chair down. "I wasn't gawking at him!"

Playing with his empty beer glass, a slightly intoxicated Lance decided to comment. "The only person you gawk at is him." Lance pointed across the table.

For a second, John forgot about the issue at hand. "When does she gawk at me?"

Wanda growled and hexed Lance before he opened his big mouth again. He fell backward in his chair and stuck to the ground.

John laughed until his noticed that Wanda was staring at the man again. "If you don't know him, then why are you staring at him? Do you think he's hot?"

Blasted back to John, she sat down at the table, but snuck a peek at the nurse every few moments. "Hell, no. He's a prissy like my brother." She paused, trying to find an answer to John's question. "I don't know. He keeps looking my way. I think he knows who I am."

Not once had John seen the man look their way. "I think you're paranoid."

The witch narrowed her eyes. "I'm not paranoid. He's going to take me back!"

John played along, hoping she would remember something. "Back where? What are you talking about? What do you remember?"

Wanda leaned over and clenched her hair. "I don't know! I just know he's going to take me back." In a second her mood changed. She loosened her grip on her head and looked John in the eye. Her face was flushed and her eyes pleading. "You won't let them take me, will you?" 

John reached up and took her hand. "Of course not, but he doesn't want to take you anywhere."

Throwing his hand away, the witch grew cold. She straightened up. "That's not what I asked. 'They will NEVER take me back.' (4)" The lights began to flicker and the smoke machines went haywire.

"Wanda! He's not one of them! He's not from the asylum!" John called to her, but she wasn't listening.

Random tables overturned. Pitchers elevated. Beer bongs shot alcohol out at fire hydrant pressure. People were screaming and blindly taking cover. Wanda's eyes glazed over as she talked to herself and grabbed her head. "I'll never go back. Not alone again. No one will leave me. I can't go back. I'm free now. I've got him. I won't go back. I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to. I won't go back. I hate the rain. . ."

As she mumbled on, more objects flew across the room. Microphone feedback pierced everyone's ears. Sparks from the equipment started a fire. John stood up and tried to extinguish it, but the flame became green, magical, and wild.

Lance, free from his hex, crawled to John. "DO SOMETHING!"

"Like what? Give a sword to squirrel (5)?" He turned his attention back to the wild fire. He bit his lip and expended energy he didn't know he had. He collapsed when the fire went out. He wriggled over to Lance. "We can't attack her directly. She'll make our powers backfire, whether she means to or not."

"Think of something! It's your fault she's like this!"

John's eyes narrowed. If the fire was still going, Lance would be ash. "I'm open to suggestions!" he growled. The Acolyte squinted through the smoke from Lance to Wanda to the bar in complete chaos. If he didn't think he was in danger as well, John might have laughed at them. Then a crazy idea popped into his fried Aussie brain.

John launched himself to the girl, grabbed the color of her scarlet jacket, pulled her to him, and thrust his lips on hers.

* * *

There was a warm, moist sensation on her lips. Everything that had been flying in her head, bombarding her with a jumble of emotion, was cleared for this single, strong, real feeling. The thing was, even though this was her first kiss, it felt strangely familiar. Then Wanda kissed St. John back.

When they pulled away, the house lights were on, the smoke was clearing, and the bar was vacant except for Lance and the drummer on stage clutching his cymbals. Unfrozen, the drummer sprung off the floor for the nearest exit. Lance, thankful that he was alive, fell into a semiconscious state on the littered floor.

Not moving more that a few centimeters from John's mouth, Wanda asked, "What happened?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure I kissed you."

Wanda smiled. "I remember that. I mean to the bar." A random piece of equipment sparked onstage.

His eyes grew wide. "Don't you remember?"

She squinted. "The last thing I remember is you and Lance arguing over what combination of smells best described Pietro's running shoes."

John's voice grew soft like he had been defeated. "Oh."

"What do you mean, 'Oh'?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter." The Aussie shook his disappointment away and reminded himself where he was: Once again in the arms of the passionate Scarlet Witch. Why look a gift horse in the mouth? He looked up and met her eyes once more. He smiled mischievously. "You know - " John smacked his lips, "that kiss was okay, but I think you can do better."

Honestly, Wanda thought it was perfect, but she wasn't going to take the blame if John didn't think so. "Me? It was your thick tongue that was causing the problem."

"Was not." John paused thoughtfully. His lips came as close at they could to Wanda's without touching. "I guess there is only one way to solve this argument." Wanda took the hint and closed the gap between them.

* * *

(1) Part of a line said by Bacon aka Handsome Rob in the movie _Lock, Stock, & Two Smoking Barrels_. It is some phrase meaning dumbstruck. Recommended viewing.  
(2) I swear, every good bar has a regular who's either an old woman in a red dress or an old man in a hawaiian shirt, and they dance. Oh, do they dance.  
(3) Avalanche's real name in the comics: Dominic Szilard Petros.  
(4) Wanda said this line in "Nine to Five: Chapter 11 - Love is in the Air," when the asylum guards were called to the mall.  
(5) Sorry, guys. I'm watching _House of Flying Daggers _on TV and the pervert/"rescuer" guy hung his sword to a tree, and there was a squirrel banging it against the tree to make noise so he could watch the girl bathe. It was so funny, I couldn't resist.

**A/N: **Wanda and John together again. For all those wondering, you'll find out what Remy found in Pow-R8 next chapter plus some Rogue too!


	19. The Slate Can Never Be Clean

**A/N: **An early update to try and get back on track. Enjoy :)**  
**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Nineteen: The Slate Can Never Be Clean**

Totally immersed in the kiss, neither Wanda nor John heard the footsteps, crunching broken glass and coming toward them. A hesitant hand fell on St. John's shoulder, pulling him away. Wanda growled and tried to hex the man through the brick wall and across the street, but John stopped her. Only once had he seen such an expression on his friend's face.

John pinched Remy. "Oww, John. What de hell was dat for?"

"You looked like a ghost. I had to make sure you weren't going to slime us."

Remy smiled weakly. "You watch too many movies, mon ami." He surveyed the joint. "T'anks for keepin' a low profile."

"Well, you see - " John started to explain.

Remy waved his words aside. "Don' matter, we got bigger problems. And Gambit's not talkin' 'bout de cops on their way. Get Lance and let's get out of here."

It was easy for the foursome to evade the police on their way to the scene. Luckily, either none of the witnesses saw the assailants through the smoke, or they were too frightened to say. They walked quickly and silently, although the hand-holding didn't go unnoticed.

"What happened, Remy?" John asked.

"Gambit'll tell everyone at de hotel. Sabertooth and de boys are already dere waitin'."

A sobering Lance tripped over his own feet. "Sabertooth? You tracked him down too? This must be big."

The Cajun nodded. Not another word was said until they reached the hotel room.

When they walked in, Freddy was asleep, Pietro was flipping through the channels, Toad was looking through John's bag, and Sabertooth was filing his teeth in the bathroom mirror. Almost instantly, Toad went up in flames, jumping on Freddy to evade them. Freddy woke up, Sabertooth grunted, and Pietro yelped at the hand-holding.

The speed demon leapt off the bed, tossing the remote aside. "What is this? It had better be the result of some freak superglue accident or - "

Remy pushed him onto the bed. "Sit down. We have business to discuss."

Pietro stood up again only to have Sabertooth shove him back down. "Sit down and shut up so we can get this over with," Sabertooth ordered. Although he technically had no authority, everyone agreed with him.

Once Lance, Wanda, and John took their seats, Remy cleared his throat. "Dere's been some new developments. Some of you know dat dere were some floors on de security plans dat weren' on de original plans. To make sure dere weren' goin' to be any surprises on Saturday, Gambit decided to check it out tonight." He took a deep breath. "Dey were holding cells containing mutants. Pow-R8 is developin' somethin' and dey're usin' dese mutants as unwillin' experiments. So the mission has another objective: Get de mutants out and to safety."

Everyone looked to Freddy. This was a issue that struck home with him. Back when they battled the sentinel, he was one of the captured. Nothing happened to him, but he was there long enough to develop that fear. He knew what it was like to be thought of as a lab rat. He also remembered all the empty cells on the way out intended for many, many others. Now there were others, held by a seemingly legitimate business under everyone's noses. They were these souls' only hope. No longer was it simply a destruction mission. Now it was about freedom too.

Fred's voice was dry and hoarse. "How many are there?"

Remy took out a deck of cards and started shuffling. "At least a hundred, maybe two."

Pietro was overwhelmed. "How are we supposed to get all those people out and get them cleared before we bring the building down? We only have so much time. Better yet, why don't they break themselves out?"

The Cajun sighed. "Dey have a power dampener. Physical mutations aren't affected, so Sabertooth, Blob, and maybe Toad will be fine. Some of the most powerful mutants might be able to use their powers a little, but they fade quickly."

Pietro leapt off the bed and threw his arms in the air. "A power dampener? Wow, that'll make it easy. A walk in the park, I'm sure."

Stepping in Pietro's path, Remy yelled, "I know! If you'd shut up a second, I'd tell you my plan and de revisions on Saturday's! Is everyone listenin'? I'm not going to repeat it dis time." He paused for good measure.

"Dere are two mutants, identical twins, dat can teleport. De t'ing is, dey can only teleport t'ings to each another. So tomorrow we need to get one of de twins, hopefully wit'out dem noticin' dey only have one of dem. Den all we have to do is get dat guy to a safe place and the others will get teleported to him.

"Tomorrow evening, we get de computer back-ups like planned. On Saturday night, we have new teams: First, Toad is going to upload the camera feed into de camera Pyro installed today. Den you'll join Blob and the Scarlet Witch. You t'ree are going down into de sublevels to disable de power damper and free de mutants."

Remy turned toward the hairy giant and the pale Brotherhood mechanic. "Sabertooth and Avalanche, you will be handing de security and destroying de labs. Try not to blow yourselves up."

"Quicksilver and Pyro," Remy paused while they both groaned, "You'll be destroying de files and records, both paper and computer. After everyone's done, de demolition will continued as planned. Don't forget to grab de camera and de laptop before it blows. Headset communicators will be worn at all times, and no playing around wit' dem. Dat's how people get killed. Any questions?"

Pietro snorted. "Are you going to catch a movie Saturday night or what?"

Remy sighed. "I'll be takin' teleporting twin number one to de safe spot. I'm de only one he'll leave with. And as much as I hate to do dis, Quicksilver is field commander after I leave." Remy quickly silenced the protests. "I've t'ought dis through, and you'll have to deal with it. It's not like I pulled his name out of a hat."

With Pietro jumping for joy for his promotion, Wanda asked the important question: "How are we getting this mutant out in the first place?"

"Every morning, de mutants are taken out to get examined and, if dey're lucky, a dosage of mystery juice. We need to intercept one of dem in transit. De trick is not getting detected." Remy turned to Wanda and smiled. "Dat's where I hope you can help me out, petite."

"I'm a witch, not a ninja."

Remy smirked. "But you have dat nice, little cloaking spell you used on de train (1). Do you need your powers to do it, or is it a witchy thing?"

"I don't use my mutant powers as far as I know. Not consciously, anyway."

"Good 'cause if we get too close to de damper, we'd be caught." Remy paused to think. "What about video surveillance? We don't have footage we need to cover ourselves while dere are other people dere, so it needs to be undetectable."

Wanda shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I could try it tonight and find out."

Remy bolted over to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he announced, "Dis is going to be a long night. Leave your whines at de door. I've got to make a call, den I'll be back to give a step-by-step to each team."

* * *

"'So, what's the sitch?'" (2) 

Behind the hotel, Remy took a drag on his cigarette. "Stop it wit' de Disney catch phrases, John."

"Then you should tell me what you aren't telling them."

"I told everyone what they need to know."

John pulled out his own smoke and lit it off Remy's. "But not everything. You can't fool me. You don't make ghostly Remy face for no reason."

Crickets and cars were the only things heard for a few minutes. Finally, Remy broke down. "Gambit knows some of dem."

"Who?"

"De mutants in Pow-R8."

John turned on the melodrama to lighten the mood. "From your time with...Mr. Sinister?"

The Cajun only shook his head. "Stop callin' him dat. I t'ought you were a writer. Couldn't you come up wit' a better name?"

"Like Devilspawn? Psycho-Pirate? Killer Moth? Boo-Boo-Kitty-F - (3)"

"You can shut up now."

John tilted his head to the side. "I don't think I can. Especially since you won't tell me what's bothering you."

"Oui, I know dem from when I worked wit' Essex. Even brought some of dem to Essex in de beginning. Den I found out how he used dem for: To map out X-genes. At least before he developed less crude methods." Remy stared at the sky and took a drag. "Some of dem have my eyes."

"Offspring without the sex. That's no fun."

Remy glared at John until he stopped smiling. "De ain't my kids." He angrily chucked his cigarette on the ground. "It's not fair. I freed dem once already, but once dese Pow-R8 guys found one, dey thought all de genetic manipulation would help dem with their own experiments, so they tracked down more." Remy's smile was bittersweet. "No matter what I do, I can't escape it. I can't escape him or what I've done."

John tapped the ash from his cigarette. "You're such a downer, Remy."

The Cajun pulled out his pack and tapped it. "I t'ought you were supposed to be comforting me: 'You can't change de past' or 'you're a different person now.'"

John gasped. "Remy, I had no idea you wanted me to be your girlfriend. What will I tell Wanda? We just got back together tonight."

The Cajun played with a cigarette between his fingers. "I noticed. I'm surprised she let go of you."

He shrugged. "I don't mind." John stroked his chin. "You know, Remy. I've been thinking about this relationship, and I don't think it'll work. I can't stand being second choice. I need monogamous commitment. It'll have to be me or Rogue." He paused. "So?"

The Cajun rolled his eyes. "You could always come out and ask me if I've called her."

John grinned ear to ear. "But tall tales are much more fun."

Remy took out his cell phone and looked at the display. "Not yet."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Tryin' to figure out what I'm gonna say."

John smacked Remy in the shoulder. "That's easy." He cleared his throat and batted his eyelashes. "'Dearest Rogue, I'm so sorry I ignored you and acted like a spoiled brat. - '"

"Go inside, John. Be wit' you're girl." He finally lit the cigarette he was playing with.

"Are you going to call her?" the Aussie nagged.

"Oui, and I don' want you eavesdropping!"

John headed back to the doors. "Too bad Petey isn't here. He could give you some advice about phone sex."

Remy lightly charged a card and tossed it at John's feet. The firebug jumped out of the way and hurried into the hotel. "Smoochy, smoochy," he shouted before he slammed the door shut.

A second later, it reopened. A dirty white sock waved through the crack. "Wait! I come in peace."

Crossing his arms, Remy waited for John to continue.

He poked his head out. "Okay, you ready?"

Remy nodded.

"Norma? In charge?"

The leader relaxed his pose. "I didn't have much to choose from. Do I have to explain Sabertooth, Toad, Blob, or Wanda?"

"Yes."

"Toothy doesn't care 'bout safety or 'bout gettin' caught. Not to mention he coughs up hairballs larger dan his brain. No one will listen to Toad or Blob, and it is a tough call on who's smarter between de three. I know you and Wanda are back together, but she still doesn' have her head screwed on straight, not to mention she's very reactive, emotionally volatile, and has virtually no experience."

Remy counted to three on his fingers. "Dat left me wit' you, Lance, and Pietro. Your plans are always insane and half-baked, and I t'ink the only reason they work half de time is dat you have some chaos god lookin' out for you. Plus, Toad and Dreamcoat wouldn't listen to a word you said. 'Sides, you really want to be responsible for dose imbéciles in dere?"

"Hell, no. I don't want to lead the pack. But why Pietro and not Lance?"

"Lance's got the 'Hood's respect but can't think on his feet or improvise. Dis job's gotta be thorough, and everything and everyone has to be kept track of. Pietro's de best man here for the job."

"Man?"

"In the loosest sense."

"So you picked him because he's anal retentive and can't keep his mind on any one thing unless it involves sex."

Remy nodded.

The Aussie agreed. "I can live with that." The pyromaniac retreated back to his room where his witch was waiting.

The Cajun sighed and scrolled through his phonebook. He prayed Rogue would be the one to answer. The phone rang once, twice, three times.

A groggy male voice came on. "Hello?"

Remy ended the call instantly. He waited five minutes and tried again. This time he was lucky. "So you finally decided ta call meh, ya low-life swamp rat? Couldn't ya have picked a better time? Like when people are conscious?"

"I'm glad it was you dat picked up dis time."

"Scott came in thinkin' it was Kitty's boyfriend 'cause your numbers are so alike. She's away at her parents fo' the weekend and Ah'm supposed ta give him the number if he calls. Ya heard anythin' from him?"

"Non."

"Aren't ya worried?"

"Non. Petey's a big boy."

There was an awkward silence.

"Did ya get mah message?"

Remy raised an eyebrow. "You call dose curse-fests messages?"

"Well, the last one."

"Non. Sorry, I deleted dem all after de fist two."

"Oh."

She sounded a little relieved, but Remy wasn't paying attention. He had other things on his mind. "I didn' call to talk 'bout dat. I'm still pissed at you - "

"Remy - " she started.

"No, let's not get into dat right now. We talk 'bout it in person like you wanted. Saturday night."

Rogue didn't hide her surprise. "Saturday? But Ah thought - "

"Plans changed. Dat's why I called. De other day you mentioned de Morlocks."

Rogue was not following his train of thought. "Yeah?"

"Do you know what t'eir leader's name is?"

"Uh, Calli or Calliope - "

"Callisto?"

Rogue confirmed Remy's guess with certainty. "Sounds right. How'd you know?"

"Is her right eye red and black? Like mine?"

Rogue was back to being confused with the questioning. "She doesn't have a right eye. She wears an eye patch."

"Must be her."

"How do ya know her? What's this all about? First, ya talk about changin' plans, then ya're askin' about Morlocks. Will ya tell me what's goin' on? Are ya in trouble?"

Remy sighed. He didn't want to say more than he had to. "I need to know how to find Callisto."

Stubbornness took over Rogue. "How do ya know her?"

"How can I find her?

"How do ya know her?"

"How can I - ?"

"It's too late ta be playin' these games with ya! If ya just called ta be an asshole, ya coulda waited 'til the mornin'!" Rogue errupted. She considered hanging up. "Ah won't tell ya anything until ya tell meh what's goin' on." She paused. "Well?"

Before he knew it, words spilled out. "Gambit's scared."

"Why? What's goin' on?" she asked, noticing but not mentioning Remy's tense switch.

"My past is catchin' up wit' me." Rogue patiently waited for Remy to continue. "De guy I used to work for. . . one of de t'ings I used to do was bring mutants to him. Mutants who needed help wit' dere powers. A few of dem stayed on, but most of dem I never saw again. 'Til one day I couldn't sleep so I wondered around de place. I found Callisto and others locked in pens." He paused for breath before rambling. "I didn't know. I didn't want to know, but dere was no turnin' back. A few days later I had it and broke dem all out and ran away."

"Did you see your old boss on your mission? Is that why ya're scared?"

Remy violently shook his head. "Non. Non. It's not him dis time. He sold dese guys some old equipment, like he did wit' Magneto, but it's not him dis time. But it's dem again; some of t'ose same mutants I let out got captured again. T'ing is, dey might have been better off if I hadn' let dem out to begin wit'. At least den, de testin' wasn't tryin' to kill dem."

"How can ya say that? Ya did all ya could ta help them before. It's not your fault they were stupid enough ta get caught again. And now ya're back ta get them outta another mess. They should be thankful ya found them again, when they needed you. Make up a holiday or somethin'."

"But Gambit coulda done more. He coulda watched out for dem after he broke dem out de first time, instead of goin' off on his own. All I cared about was me and gettin' as far from dat place as possible. Then . . ."

"Then what, Remy? Somehow Ah can't see ya bein' den mother ta a bunch of jaded mutants. Ya did all ya could. Ya had no idea history would repeat itself. And now ya know ya gotta do more than open the gate."

"Dat's why I've got to find Callisto. Dey trust her and regret not joinin' her merry band of outcasts before. Dey t'ought dey'd try and start over in a warmer climate instead of fightin' back. Silly, dem. They didn' know you don' ever get to start over. The slate can never be clean."

"God, ya're depressing, Remy."

"Dat's what John said."

Rogue's voice was soft and comforting, not a tone she used often. "People make mistakes - "

"Not as big as mine," he snapped.

Rogue dished the attitude right back. "Ya're right. Ya can't change the past or even ignore it. Ya were a scared, self-centered little boy, and now he's lookin' ya right in the face. What are ya gonna do about it?"

"Why bother doin' anythin'? It's gonna happen again. It's already happened again. Dis time it's worse."

Rogue could not believe where his self-pity was taking him. "So ya'd rather leave them there because the next mess _might _be worse?"

"Freein' dem was de first time in a long time I did somethin' I felt was right. Now look what happened."

"The only way ta make up for it is ta learn from it. Try and make the future better usin' what ya learned. Or everythin' is. . .well. . . pointless. Like Bart Simpson tryin' ta get an electrocuted cupcake. He didn't learn like the hamster (4). Nothin's got a chance ta change for the better unless you try."

Remy's reply was soft: "What if it's not better?"

"Then ya learn and try again."

Her words started to sink in. Wallowing in self-pity and helplessness was about as effective as trying to forget what he had done. She might have her faults, but Rogue was right.

It was that moment that Remy realized how much he needed Rogue if he was ever going to put his mess of a life behind him. Sure, he already admitted he loved her, but now he needed her. She was his light when he fell into darkness. She was the one to pull him out. Her frankness and hope was something he couldn't get anywhere. "When did you get so wise?"

Rogue yawned. "Ah do live in a school."

"Sure you didn't tap Plato? Or at least Dr. Phil?" he teased.

Rogue was not in the mood to take the side-effects of her powers so lightly. There were times when she was confused about where her feelings and memories were coming from, but this was not one of them. It didn't help that it was late and she was cranky. "So there's no way Ah coulda come up with that on mah own?" she yelled.

"Non, dat's not what I'm sayin'!"

"Then what are ya sayin'?"

"You made me feel better, that's all! You knew what to say. No one else does. Dat's why I called so late. I needed y - to talk to you." By the end of his explanation, Remy's volume was barely above a whisper.

"Oh." Embarrassed at her outburst, Rogue couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I t'ink I . . ."

Rogue held her breath. "Yeah?"

Remy's words seized up. Could he forget the lies and forgive her before she explained herself? That would be like letting her off the hook she still had him hanging from. He sighed. "I t'ink you owe me Callisto."

"Oh." Rogue proceeded to tell Remy how Ray found the Morlocks on repeated occasions. That was something she had gleaned off someone else's memories. "Is that all ya need ta know?"

"Oui, merci."

"So. . . how's the weather?"

"Feels like rain."

"Not much different here."

"I wish I could stay, but I gotta get back and drill de plan into de Brotherhood's brain. I'll have to wait 'til Lance sobers up, t'ough."

"Lance was drinkin'?"

There was something in Rogue's voice that made Remy groan. "What now?"

"Uh, nothin'. He sobers up pretty quick. . . after he throws up."

"He's not dat drunk."

"Doesn't matter."

"Great. Just great. Like dis night couldn' get any worse."

"Ah could yell at ya again."

"Non, I need my hearin' tomorrow."

"So. . . Ah guess Ah'll see ya Saturday."

"I'm lookin' forward to it." Remy hung up the phone and returned to the room. Outside the door sat a crumpled comforter that smelled like vomit. He sighed. "I can' wait 'til Saturday."

* * *

Setting the phone down on her nightstand, Rogue snuggled underneath her covers. She glanced at the alarm clock and smiled. _Only one day and six hours left 'til ah find out mah fate. Ah hope its good. We could all use somethin' good._

* * *

(1) Wanda used her cloaking spell in the lounge car in November Rain: Chapter 15 - Who Ya Gonna Call?  
(2) "What's the sitch?" is a catch phrase from Disney's _Kim Possible_.  
(3) Killer Moth is a Batman villain and Boo-Boo-Kitty-F is a nickname Jay made up for his girlfriend in _Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back_. Not the best Kevin Smith movie, but not the worse.  
(4) Referring to Lisa's science fair experiment in _The Simpson_ episode "Duffless." 

**Next up:** Remy and Wanda try and complete their rescue mission without killing each, and the Brotherhood start volunteering for the Lightparade.


	20. We Had Dreams Once

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty: We Had Dreams Once  
**

The concrete was cold and wet underneath the Scarlet Witch. She and Remy had been sitting cloaked outside the Pow-R8 employee entrance for nearly an hour. The sky was beginning to lighten behind the clouds, reminding them that they hadn't slept all night. The worst part for Wanda was the constant poking in her back.

"Would you get your bony elbow out of my side?" she barked.

"Where would you like me to put it? In your face?" Remy sneered. He tried wiggling around to get into a new position. "Are you sure we have ta stay in dis hula hoop?"

"The runes have to be an equal distance apart at all times with me inside or the spell will break. You're the one that came up with the hula hoop idea."

Remy held his hand in front of her mouth. "Wait. . . Someone's coming."

Wanda stood up and brushed herself off. "Finally." She bent over and picked up the hula hoop with five pieces of paper duct taped to it.

Remy also stood, then snapped, "Shut up. We can't talk any more or dey'll hear. Follow my lead."

Two employees in casual conversation came around the bend. They gained access to the building, never noticing the door didn't close behind them. After their voices faded away, Remy and Wanda slipped through. They shuffled along the hallways as quietly as possible until reaching the elevator to the sub-levels. Wanda kept watch while Remy pried open the elevator doors.

Wanda used her powers to call the elevator to the floor below them. Stepping on the top of the box, they again sat and waited.

"I figure we've got two floors of leeway before de dampener's in range," Remy whispered.

"Peachy."

"When we go down, don' freak out if you try and use your powers. Either nothin' happens, or dey fizzle out."

The witch narrowed her eyes. "I thought you said I didn't need to use my powers. That you could handle it all."

"Oui, I'm just saying - "

Not listening, Wanda turned away. "Let's stick with your first plan of not talking to each other."

Remy was about to retort when the elevator jumped, moving one floor up. Remy and Wanda stood up with difficulty. The elevator stopped abruptly, and the witch lost her footing. Remy caught the hula hoop with one hand and Scarlet Witch with the other. Ungrateful, she glared at him, brushed off any Gambit cooties she may have gotten, and wrenched the hoop from his hands.

The elevator jolted downward. Remy made careful note of how many floors they passed. The mutant he had recognized the night before was unable to tell him what floor the examination rooms were on, and Remy did not have the desire to do any more exploring that night.

The elevator stopped on the very bottom floor. After the elevator emptied, the thief propped open the emergency hatch so he could peer into the box. Sure enough, the next people to get into the elevator were two guards and a sickly looking mutant who reminded him of many old acquaintances.

They were roughly jolted again as the elevator began ascending. This time Wanda maintained her footing.

It was a short ride, only two floors. The guards and the mutant exited.

Remy snapped the emergency hatch shut. He nodded to Wanda, telling her to be ready to jump to the small ledge of floor below when the elevator was called down again. They did not have to wait long. Remy and Wanda stepped off the moving car. Wanda yelped as her left foot slipped. Remy pulled her closer to the doors and held her there until she regained her footing. Wanda blushed and stared hard at the cold stainless steel. She was embarrassed about her vocal mistake and grateful Remy had let it go, unmentioned.

The Cajun knew they didn't have much time before the elevator would rise again. As soon as he could let go of Wanda, Remy wedged his bo staff between them. The doors were only a few inches apart before the box began moving upwards again, two floors below them.

Wanda glared nervously at Remy. She tried to hex the doors open, but her bolt fizzled before she could aim it at the doors. She panicked for a few seconds before reminding herself that she was warned about the dampener more times than she could count. Now embarrassed, frustrated, and worried about being smooshed like a bug between the elevator and the wall, she began tapping her fingers against the wall. Remy sent her a look warning her to stop. She glared right back between nervous glances below them. Suddenly the doors gave way, and the two managed to squeeze through them by tilting the hoop at an angle.

Remy saw the witch's expression and covered her mouth before she could shout an insult at him. They scouted an out-of-the-way spot behind a potted plant to watch the elevator doors. The two began the waiting game again.

One by one, mutants were brought past the cloaked duo. Some were blindfolded, and almost all were sickly looking or deformed. A few couldn't walk on their own and leaned heavily on their guards. The mutants were led to their own, small examination room. There they waited with their guards posted outside. A doctor with a white labcoat and a clipboard entered the room a few minutes later. After a labcoat visited about six rooms, another person would follow with a cart of syringes. The guards would escort the new tech in and out of the room for each injection. When all the rooms had received their injection of "medicine" or a placebo, the guards would escort their mutant back to the holding cells. No two mutants were put into the elevator at the same time. Needless to say, the entire process took forever.

Wanda had very nearly fallen asleep on the Cajun's bony shoulder when he nudged her awake. One of the twins had stepped out from the elevator. Wanda was surprised that she had already seen his counterpart earlier that morning. She made a note to ask Remy why they didn't grab the first one and save some time.

The mutant, like the others, had lost all hope; his eyes and stature showed it. He was tall, rivaling Piotr in height, and as thin as a bean. His skin had a purplish tint, and his arms were elongated and flat, hanging down so far his fingertips dragged on the floor. The elevator doors closed on his pinkie. He wiggled and mumbled helplessly until one of his escort figured out his hand was stuck in the door. They opened the door quickly, and the twin sighed with relief. He struggled to pull his arm up and nurse his hand. It seemed he had very little muscle control in his rubbery arms. Wanda wondered if it was an inadequacy in his powers or the experiments that had done that to him. Believing the latter, she growled, all the more determined to free those poor souls.

Remy and Wanda treaded quickly and lightly behind the entourage. The guards seemed to have learned from their previous mistake and held open the examination room door to make sure no more limbs got caught. The duo took the opportunity to slip past the guards into the room. Once the door closed, Remy rolled a small flashlight with a note wrapped around it to the mutant's feet.

He was surprised, having expected nothing to come of Remy's promises. He swept up the object with his long arms and scanned the note quickly, turned on the flashlight, and clapped. When his hands came together, he was careful to aim the flashlight directly at the surveillance camera. When the light hit the camera, Wanda lifted the hula hoop as Remy pulled him underneath.

There was commotion outside as the guards got calls from the security department over their walkie talkies. Four guards and a lab tech busted into the seeming empty room. All three held their breath as one guard came dangerously close to stepping on the twin's large foot.

"He must have teleported back to his brother's cell again," the labtech declared. "I told those maintenance dopes to turn up the power on the dampener, but do they do it? No, it's a holiday," he muttered and followed the guards running down the hallway.

The three took a moment to breath and relax before continuing their escape plan. Even though he was thin, the third person in the hoop made it incredibly hard to move as fast or through small openings. Instead of riding on top of the elevator, they waited for the doors to open. The four guards and the lab tech were back with the twin again.

It dawned on Wanda why Remy waited. Apparently, the Pow-R8 employees hadn't realized it was the same brother they had tested earlier that day. They didn't look for a second twin because they had found this one. It was much easier to pass off a stuffed bed or a different, sleeping mutant as the one that was tested earlier.

Wanda saw the mutant's eyes widen with sadness and guilt as his brother passed. They were separating two best and closest friends. She also felt for the twin that remained in Pow-R8's clutches. Not only did he have to stay behind, but he also had double the treatments that day. She couldn't leave him there. She couldn't abandon him.

Wanda dropped the hoop and threw a hex bolt at the party of guards. The blue beam of energy fell after leaving her fingertips. She started to panic once again.

Remy grabbed her before she stepped out of the runes. He held her tightly with one hand over her mouth.

They stood frozen as one of the guards looked in their direction. He had heard the hula hoop hit the ground but didn't see anything out of place. After a few seconds, the man shook his head and jogged to catch up with the others.

Remy nodded to the twin to pick up the hoop. After that, he pulled Wanda into the open elevator and did not let go until the doors closed and the elevator was ascending. Free, yet feeling weak and not knowing what to do, she shook herself and crossed her arms. The twin, unaccustomed to a being such as Wanda, shuddered under her glare. The witch's expression softened. Ashamed, she looked at her boots, then gently took the hula hoop from the former experiment. The elevator doors opened.

Aside from a near brush with an intern's shoulder and a trip near the water cooler, exiting the building was rather uneventful. None of them spoke until they were nearly a mile away. Remy nodded, and Wanda dropped the hula hoop and stepped out.

Wanda hexed a trash can nearby to test out her powers. The can folded in on itself. Turning to Remy, she asked, "Now what?"

"Now, you go back to de hotel and get de boys ready for volunteerin'. Take dese keys," Remy handed her a key ring he swiped from an employee. "Give dem to Avalanche. He knows what to do wit' dem. If you want, get some sleep instead of volunteerin'. Have Pietro tell them you have cramps or somethin'. You mind your brother- he's de boss now- but make sure he doesn' let it go to his head."

"I think it's moved beyond his head by now. It may have already reached his true brain."

Remy grimaced. "Don' say dat. Now I'll be tortured wit' de mental image."

The witch smiled. "I try."

Remy hailed a taxi and held open the back door for Wanda. "Me and Fred Weasley are gettin' on de next train (1)."

"I have a name," he mumbled.

The Cajun sighed. "I was makin' a joke, Jimmy. I t'ought you were de one wit' de sense of humor."

"I'm Timmy." The twin was unable to hold a straight face for more than ten seconds. "Just kidding. I'm Jimmy." Then his face soured, remembering where his other half was.

Seeing the frightened look on the taxi driver's face, Remy whipped his trench coat off and put it around Jimmy's shoulders. The coat was able to hide the majority of his arms and make his purple tint less noticeable. "Stay strong. Dis time Sunday you'll be in New York sippin' coffee together like dis was some bad dream." Remy glorified the life he couldn't imagine ever coming true.

"That is a dream. We had those once. We should have listened to Callisto." The tall man pulled the coat tighter around his body. "You should get me a hat too."

Remy nodded and turned back to Wanda standing near the open taxi door. "What are you waitin' for?"

The witch simply held open her hand. "You said low-profile."

The Cajun sighed and pulled out a twenty from his wallet.

Wanda's hand didn't move.

"What?" asked Remy.

"How long do you want us to be low-profile?"

Remy groaned and threw a wad of cash in the cab. Wanda slid in the taxi as rain began to fall.

* * *

The rain let up by four o'clock. Todd and Pietro stood across the street from Old Kent Bank with a perfect view of the drop box. When Sally the Intern came around the bend with a pink umbrella, Pietro pulled the hood of his rain jacket down over his face. He didn't think seeing her again would bother him, but it did. She was cute, for a human, and listened to his ramblings with interest. Then he found out what they did behind closed doors in Pow-R8. His mild affection for her had turned sour. There was no way she could have collected and compiled data without figuring out they were experimenting on live mutants. 

Sally was almost to the drop box when Pietro noticed Todd was still standing next to him. "Toad! What are you doing? That's her! She won't slow down so you can catch up. Go!"

Todd grumbled about how he was supposed to wait for Pietro to tell him to go as he leapt across the street in three bounds. He was still a good fifteen feet away when Sally started closing the drop box. Todd unleashed his tongue, wrapped it around the bag, and retracted it. The intern stood in shock, staring at the little green man who stole her drop bag.

After a few seconds she shook herself awake. She dropped her umbrella, let go of the drop box handle, and took off running down the street. "Hey! Give that back! Thief!"

No one on the street heeded her call to stop the mutant. Suddenly, a dark shadow grew from a side alley. Sally let out a small cry as she bounced against something soft and squishy. After wiping muddy water off her face, she focused on two green pillows exploding from two worn workboots. Then she realized they were legs. Sally turned over, half-running, half-crawling to escape the giant. She didn't get far before a large hand wrapped around her waist.

"Shit, Blob! What are you doing? You're supposed to stall her while Toad gets away, not keep her as a pet. Put her down!" Pietro yelled into his communicator from his look-out point. Hurting her could draw unwanted attention to the Pow-R8 plant and ruin the mission. Especially if they realized what had been stolen.

"You won't be able to hurt us anymore." A red-faced Freddy picked her up and squeezed. "No more testing. We aren't lab rats!"

Toad hopped up to Pietro, holding the drop bag. "What's goin' on, yo?"

Pietro ripped the bag from his hands, broke it along a seam, and took out the discs and the filing slip with the safe deposit box number on it. Frantically, the speed demon looked around for something to replace the discs he took from the bag. He spied some coasters in a gift shop and lifted them in less than a second. "Seal the bag with your spit and stay here! Don't ask any questions, just do it!"

Seconds later, Pietro flew down the street and tossed a garbage can lid at Freddy's head. "Put her down, King Kong! There aren't any Empire State Buildings here, so give it up."

Fred loosened his grip slightly, and Sally gasped for breath. Utter confusion spread across the big guy's face. "But she .. . huh? Pi -"

Pietro cut him off before he could say his name. "Really! I'm not kidding. Don't make me get the airplanes. Get out of here! Go find your squatty little friend. I think I left him in a trash can on 3rd."

Fred gently placed Sally on the ground, sent an extremely bewildered look to Pietro, and left.

Once she regained her senses, Sally thanked Pietro. He looked at her with disgust and chucked the drop box bag at her. He had planned to play the cool hero, but he couldn't contain himself. "Don't thank me. I wouldn't. You're scum. The only people I can think of that are worse than you are those who hired you."

Her eyes were wide and pleading. "Then why did you save me? What are you talking about?"

"Playing dumb is not flattering. You're trying to exterminate us! Like the Nazis, but without the flare of the giant gas chambers."

Sally began crying from the stress of the last few minutes. "Who's 'us'? I don't. . . there must be a mistake. They make juice, for crying out loud!"

"You analyze the data; you figure it out. Open your eyes, flatscan. Forget it. I'm done here. I can't believe I wasted my time on a human." Pietro disappeared in a blink of an eye, leaving Sally crying alone on the wet sidewalk with a tampered dropbag in her hands.

* * *

After returning to the hotel, Wanda had given Lance the keys and took off to bed. She'd wake up whenever the boys returned from their duties, whether it was the morning volunteering shift, Lance dressed up as a bum to return the keys after copying the originals, the boys stealing the back-ups, Sabertooth dropping off the safety deposit box after his bank robbery, or all of them leaving for the evening volunteering shift. 

Pietro had written her a note telling her what everyone but John was doing for the festival that night. Pietro and Fred were working concessions, Lance was collecting parking money, and Todd was parking cars. After a brief conversation with Lance at the gates, she headed over to the side of the parking lot where John was supposedly directing traffic. The rows of cars started off straight, but as she walked further down, the rows were unevenly spaced and a few people were triple parked, blocking people in. John was nowhere near his post, but it wasn't hard to spot him dressed in a reflective orange vest with matching batons.

The rain was holding off, but the wind was whipping Wanda's coat behind her. She walked over to John. He had found a great spot at the back of the parking field facing overlooking the tree lighting ceremony next to the river. There was a huge crowd gathered despite the uninviting weather. Other people in orange vests were handing out battery-operated candles to everyone.

"They used to use real candles and set them in the tree. Technology is ruining the beauty," John ranted, using his cigarette to emphasize his points.

"Because you have to work a little harder to set it ablaze?"

The Aussie took a hit. "Exactly. What else is a dead tree good for?"

Wanda shrugged and sat down. "I don't get it either." She looked at John. He had a strange expression on his face; she couldn't place it. It was the same expression she saw when she'd sneak glances at him while "sleeping." She had even seen it a few times the night before, after he returned from his talk with Remy. He'd wear it until Remy came around. Then it was hidden behind a mask of jokes and playful jabs. The expression always came back when Remy left the room or was focused with someone else. The witch continued to study his face. It was as if he was . . . thinking, maybe, or containing his anger, or felt he was being made a fool of. She couldn't decide.

After taking another drag, John returned her gaze. "What?"

Startled, Wanda asked the first unrelated thing that popped into her head. "Why do you smoke those things?"

John turned back to the crowd. "They're cheap, calming, and involve lighting stuff on fire."

Wanda snorted. "I should have guessed."

"Yep."

By keeping the conversation going, Wanda hoped to identify what John's look actually was. "How long have you smoked?"

He shrugged. "Couple weeks."

"What made you start?"

"Your father." It spilled out before he even thought about it.

She had never heard any serious grievances about her father from any of the other boys. Sure, he was hard and strict, but he accomplished things. The end result made up for the sacrifices and exhaustion in-between, didn't it? "Is working for him that bad?"

He brushed the stub against the wet dirt and tossed it into the parking lot. "It's not so much the job but the people. That's why I'm leaving."

Wanda slid away from him, appalled by his revelation. "Leaving? After what we've found out in the last twenty-four hours?"

Making sure not to look anywhere near Wanda's face, John searched for his pack. "Yep. After this job, Mags is letting me out of my contract if I want. I'm thinking about Mexico."

Wanda hugged her knees. _Pietro was right. He wants to bang me and go. But then, why would he tell me he was leaving?_

John took a lighter from his pocket and played with a small flame, letting it fly away in the wind only to bring it back like a fish on a line, before lighting another cigarette. He stopped his game and asked Wanda in his serious voice, "What do you think about Mexico? No grown men in shiny jumpsuits there. Wait, I forgot about the wrestlers."

Wanda eyed him suspiciously. "What are you saying?"

John formed the face of Strong-Bad out of his flame. "Mexican wrestlers. They dress up in spandex and face paint -"

Wanda kicked him lightly to shut him up. "No, moron. What should it matter what I think of Mexico?"

He turned his head to look at her. "You could come along if you want. I got plenty of money. Remy swiped it for me. After that I can always rely on my charm, wit, and good looks."

Wanda coughed. "The only place your 'charm, wit, and good looks' will get you is prison."

"Three meals a day and cable TV. That's not too shabby." He tapped his cigarette on the ground. "So, what do you say?"

It was Wanda's turn to look out into the cheery crowd. "I couldn't leave my family. I don't fit in or make friends like you."

He smiled proudly. "But you got me."

She glanced at the firebug out of the corner of her eye. "You could always stay."

The way John stared at her for the next few moments made her think he was going to say yes. When his head turned to his cigarette, she knew his answer.

"No. I can't. Too many memories."

"Or lack thereof," she mumbled, taking a jab at his ex-girlfriend.

John's mood flipped on a dime. "You should keep your yap shut about things you don't know," he growled.

Challenged, Wanda replied, "I'll talk about whatever I feel like talking about. You can't stop me."

"Bet your Daddy can," he grumbled.

Wanda could not believe he was bringing up this crap again. "What warped image of my father do you have in your pea-sized brain? Where do you get these fanatical ideas that he is holding something over me? That he can make me do whatever he wants?"

"Oh, please. He manipulates everything and everyone; you're no different! He knows what he wants and stops at nothing: He lies, cheats, steals, and messes with the very core of people. He should forget the Etch-A-Sketches and get into acting (2)."

Wanda's eyes narrowed. "My father gets things done. Those people he deals with deserve whatever he gives them."

"Really?" John mumbled. "You have no idea who your father is and what all he's done."

"This isn't Star Wars. Magneto is my father."

"No. I mean, he is, but he's a manipulative jackass who doesn't care about anything but his own goals and conquests."

Wanda gestured as she spoke. "He's trying to make sure mutants live to see the next decade! Someone has to keep their eye on the prize."

"But at what cost, luv? He's got his cape wrapped up so tight around his head he's missing ... well, everything!"

Wanda turned away, dismissing his argument. "You're just too simpleminded to understand what he's trying to do!"

He leaned over, their noses a few inches from touching. "I know what he's trying to do. He's done it to me a million times to keep me under his boot. His most recent masterpiece was trying to get me to think it was my idea that I resigned the contract after this mission. He thought after we found the Morlocks that my faith in the 'greater good' would be restored, and I'd happily go back to torching cars for him." John shook his head. His gaze settled back on the crowd below. He smiled. "But I'm not falling for it. I'm getting out while I can, and nothing he can whip up can stop me."

Wanda crossed her arms and poked his chest. "You're wrong. And delusional. If my father knew about the prisoners, he would have told us so we could plan and prepare for it. We wouldn't have found out if Remy wasn't so obsessive! They would have died when we brought the building down on top of them, and Father wouldn't have wanted that."

John looked up, drawing the theories he had been pondering to the forefront of his mind. "No, I figured it out. Either way he'd win. If we hadn't found them, then there would be hundreds of dead mutants in the rubble. Wonderful evidence of what Pow-R8 was doing there. Those people aren't powerful. They wouldn't help Magneto's cause except in a mass mob or as martyrs."

Wanda slapped him. "How dare you accuse my father of being so callous?"

John kept his head turned, still shocked that she had slapped him. He wiggled his jaw to make sure it was in place. H estood up and turned slowly, glaring. "Blind. That's what you are. You always were. Like you had some sort of tunnel vision. Ask the boys about the asteroid (3), why don't you? Their glasses aren't nearly as rosy as yours."

Wanda shot up, fuming and setting off a few car alarms behind her. "_I'm_ blind? I'm not the one leaving. Giving up on the people that need me to stand up for them against the horrors of the humans. You're the blind, selfish bastard."

"I'll have you know my parents were married shortly after me mum got pregnant!" John turned his back, walking away.

Gasping at straws to make him stay, Wanda accused, "You're only leaving because you're afraid!"

John stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Afraid? Afraid of what? Nargles? I think I can avoid mistletoe for a few years. (4)"

Wanda's mouth opened and closed several times, waiting for a response to leap from her tongue. She didn't truly believe he was afraid. The truth was… she was the one who was afraid. She was afraid that he could be right about her father. She remembered that she had been angry at him for a long time but couldn't pinpoint why. Her temples began to pulse, but she ignored it and pressed on in her thoughts.

Magneto was willing to send in his team short-handed to destroy Pow-R8 before Wanda insisted she be put back on the roster. She also remembered how he reacted to Agatha Harkness's name in the hospital. He completely flipped out. She had never seen her father act like that. Maybe that was how he acted around the Acolytes all the time, and when he saw her he was putting on some sort of act. Even when she was insisting she was going to Florida, he would insist she play on his terms. He made it seem like she was making the decision, when, in fact, he needed her on the team to complete the mission successfully. If she hadn't stormed his office, would she still be here? Did he have some other plan in the works to get her to come? Or had he planned to sacrifice John, Pietro, and the rest of the boys for the 'greater good'?

Although her father's true nature was puzzling her, what Wanda feared more was that John would leave, and she wouldn't see him again. She would never know what could have been. She'd never get to stuff his bed with Peeps and videotape his reaction. His words rang in her head. He said Magneto couldn't whip up any reason for him to stay. Could she? Was there anything she could do to convince him to stay? For a brief second, she wondered if his invitation to Mexico still stood.

John grew impatient waiting for an answer. "Well? What am I afraid of, oh, great and powerful Oz? Will I get a medal like the Lion?"

She stomped over to him wearing her most menacing face, but he didn't quiver or budge. She stopped, almost on his toes. She leaned up to whisper some insult into his ear, but the wonder in his eyes distracted her. He had no idea what she was planning, and he loved it. Wanda hadn't realized what she was planning either as she found her way to his lips. She was forceful, angry, and passionate, all in one movement.

The witch's eyes popped open after realizing what she was doing. Pulling away, she pushed John onto the muddy ground. "You tricked me!" she screamed.

John laughed hysterically, knowing Wanda herself couldn't believe that statement.

Frustrated, the witch began pacing in the gently falling rain. Confused and angry at herself and the laughing Aussie, she channeled her energy into a giant hex bolt. She let it fly down to the ceremony below. The lights on the tree sparked and fizzled in a chain reaction. The tree itself split down the center as if struck by lightning. People started screaming and running in every direction.

As the witch stomped by the hyena posing as a crazy mutant, she kicked some mud at him. He laughed even harder. Wanda ground her teeth and left John laughing in the mud. He stopped laughing when he realized she wasn't coming back.

* * *

(1) Fred Weasley is one of the Weasley twins in _Harry Potter_. I shall miss reading about them.  
(2) Magneto sells Etch-A-Sketch art to fund his business as revealed in Nine to Five: Chapter 3 - Cheeseburgers and Sugar Daddies.  
(3) As in the asteroid Magneto only took the winner of the duel to in "The Cauldron." I'm sure the boys have a few words about that mess.  
(4) Nargles are a possibly imaginary creature in the _Harry Potter_ universe that Luna Lovegood mentions often as being mischievous creatures that live in mistletoe and steal Luna's shoes. 

**Next up**: Rogue goes in for her appointment at Genesis Medical! Two new Marauders revealed.


	21. The Fine Print

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-one: The Fine Print**

It was barely light out when Rogue stood on the stone grey steps of Genesis Medical for the second time. As she trudged up the steps, a man no more than four feet tall bustled out in a huff. Most of his body was the right size relative to his height, except for his gigantic head. Rogue couldn't help staring as he passed.

The little man's voice was irritating, like fingernails on a chalkboard. "'I need this new project completed by Saturday,' he says. Like I'm not working hard enough trying to fix the problems with the alpha collars. And how many times do I have to tell him my name is not Brainchild? I have a huge head and a little body, yes, but I don't need some retarded nickname from a guy who can't grasp basic bioengineering concepts. 'I'm a geneticist and neurologist, not a tinkerer,' he says. 'Tinkerer', ha! Where would he be without his 'tinkerer'? I ask you that!" The man wondered out of earshot but continued to mumble as he headed to a parking garage.

Taking a deep breath, Rogue faced the building again. She tried to pull open one of the glass doors, but it was locked. Putting her face to the glass, Rogue saw a cleaning woman with purple hair holding up chair with one hand while vacuuming the area rug with the other. Her features were so sharp and muscles so defined that Rogue almost mistook her for a man.

Rogue tapped on the glass, but the woman didn't look up. She banged louder. Finally, the masculine woman saw her and pulled the headphones out of her ears. After setting the furniture back in place and shutting off the vacuum, the woman opened the door.

"What do you want, chica?" she barked, sizing Rogue up for a fight.

Rogue gulped. "Uh, Ah have an early appointment with Dr. Essex."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You are the powerhouse the boss was talking about?" She huffed, unimpressed, and turned so Rogue could squeeze inside. The woman laughed as she walked with her back to Rogue. "El es loco si cree que trabajaremos juntos. ¡Ella no sobrevivirá un dia (1)!" She motioned for Rogue to follow her. "This way."

The clinic was devoid of any other life aside from a lab tech sleeping on some sort of scanner. It was much creepier without all of the people around. Every step echoed in the hallway. The only noise other than their feet was the purple-haired woman's occasional chuckle.

The cleaning woman led Rogue to Essex's office. It was empty like the rest of the place. "I will let the doctor know you are here." As the lady closed the door, she began laughing again.

At first Rogue sat nervously picking hair and fur off her black skirt. After a few minutes, Rogue found her curious eyes drifting toward the two doors on the left wall. She stood up and cautiously approached one of them. A foot from the door, Rogue glanced at the entrance to the office. No movement, no sound. She reached out with a gloved hand to the doorknob.

The office door opened abruptly, startling Rogue. To cover, she pretended to examine a few old photographs hanging on the wall, but she didn't think she was all that convincing.

Dr. Essex mentioned nothing amiss as he glided from the entrance to his desk. With his eerie smile plastered on his face, he asked, "How are you this morning, Miss Rogue?"

She turned from the wall and faked a yawn. "Still asleep, Ah think." She casually walked back to the visitor's chair, hoping that the doctor didn't see the tension she held in her neck and shoulders.

Dr. Essex sat down and leafed through some files on his desk. "I hope you are awake enough to go over your results. Perhaps you would like a cup of coffee?"

Rogue shook her head. She had already had three cups that morning. "No, thanks. Ah think Ah'll manage ta keep mah eyes open." Essex nodded and began explaining scans and charts he pulled out of a manilla folder.

Despite what she had said, Rogue's eyelids drooped. She was no longer in Essex's office, but in her own room back at the mansion. She was sitting on her bed reading when Remy walked in from the balcony.

She didn't look up from her book. "Still can't find the front door?"

He smirked. "Not when you wanted me to use de balcony."

Rogue slipped her bookmark in-between the pages but didn't close the book. "How do ya figure that?"

"You left it open."

Three penguins waddled out of her closet.

"Bonjour, mes amis."

The three birds squeaked in greeting and settled down in an igloo where Kitty's bed once was. There was an ice slide that led from the top of the igloo down to a Sponge Bob wadding pool near the door.

Rogue shook her head. "Kitty's gonna kill Bobby for doin' that."

There was a confused expression on Remy's face. "But you made it. Dat's what Malcolm said."

"Malcolm?"

Remy pointed to one of the penguins that now had a blue beak. "Dat one's Malcolm and de other two are Bob." (2) One of the Bobs waddled up and handed Remy a frilly pink apron and a spatula. As Remy stared at his gifts, the other Bob pushed him into the wading pool.

Rogue laughed at the wet Cajun. "What was that for? Did ya flirt with his girl?"

"No amount of feathers and free fish could turn my head from you, chere." He shrugged, turning the spatula over his hands. "Bob said it was all for later." Remy stood up and shook like a dog. A dry Cajun sat on the end of Rogue's bed and plucked the book from her hands. "Now what is dis important t'ing you can't tell me over de phone?"

The goth smiled and blushed. She moved her legs underneath her so she sat closer to the Cajun. "Uh, nothing." She randomly traced her finger on the bedspread. "Just this." She dove into his lips for her first kiss.

Remy pushed her back. "Woah. Who de hell are you? Where's Rogue?"

Rogue could not hide her hurt. "It's meh, Remy."

The Cajun scooted back toward the foot of the bed. "No. Rogue wouldn' kiss me like dat. She can' kiss me. Not dat it was a bad kiss."

Now she was angry. Rogue stood up so she could tower above him. "It's meh, swamp rat! Ah went to this gene clinic, and they helped meh gain control of mah powers! Ah'm still meh!"

Remy raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Really?"

Rogue rolled her eyes and smacked him with her pillow.

He groaned. "Guess dat answers dat question." Remy stood up and cupped Rogue's face in his hands. As their lips moved closer he said, "Miss Rogue, I do believe you are drooling."

"Huh?" The vision in Rogue's head vanished, replaced with the reality of Dr. Essex's office. She quickly wiped the saliva from the corner of her mouth and rubbed her eyes. "Sorry, doc. Maybe Ah did need another cup of coffee."

The man sighed. "What was the last thing you remember?"

She gave him a blank look. Rogue could remember him talking, losing him through the jargon, and then staring into Remy's enchanting eyes. She sighed. "Ta tell ya the truth, Ah don't get all this scientific mumbo-jumbo. Can ya explain it any simpler?"

Essex clenched his teeth behind a fake smile. "Of course, Miss Rogue. I can try." He lifted up one of the MRI scans and pointed to one especially bright area of her brain. "Remember when we had the human lab assistant volunteer to touch you while you were in the scanner? That was so we could determine which parts of your brain performed certain tasks. To better understand your extraordinary capabilities. You mentioned that it was an evolved human's abilities you imprinted first, so that leads me to believe that this area is where data for every evolved human's X-gene and possibly a complete record of every person's DNA is copied and stored. When contact was made, it showed a lot of activity at first, but stopped milliseconds later." The doctor smiled and put down the scan.

"This is the most interesting part." Essex placed a few more scans on his desk facing Rogue. He pointed to the back of her head on one, and the base of her neck on another. "Here is where I believe the imprinted memories and psyches are stored. I have a theory about why your body insists on imprinting those as well as the DNA: You can instantly know how to control and use the mutant powers you have copied, eliminating - "

"But what about controllin' mah powers?" Rogue exclaimed. The goth found this information mildly interesting, but she had come to Essex for one reason and one reason only: to be able to touch and live like a normal human being.

The doctor sighed and gathered up his printouts. His eyes stayed on the file before him. "There showed some promise - "

"Promise? Ah thought ya said ya'd know by now."

Essex spun in his chair and filed Rogue's test results. "That is what people don't understand about science. It is never 100. There are too many factors. That is why they call them theories and trends - "

"So do ya 'believe' Ah'll be able ta control mah powers if Ah go through this activation bone treatment?"

Essex faced her and smiled. "I believe you will reach your full potential."

"That's good enough for meh, doc. Can we get started already?"

Essex nodded, but remained sitting with his hands folded in front of him. "I hate to mention this, Miss Rogue, but this is a business. Have you thought about payment options yet? Would you like to talk to one of my financial advisors? I believe there was a cancellation Tuesday morning for Mr. Questad - "

Not wanting to wait three more days, Rogue interrupted him. "Actually Ah was conciderin' that debt for service kinda deal . . .Do Ah have ta make an appointment for that? Ah kinda hoped ta start the treatment today."

Essex smiled and gave her some papers. "Yes. You will have to meet with an advisor to figure out hours and where your skill set would be best applied, but if you sign these papers, we begin the treatment today and work out the particulars later. It's great to have you aboard." He mentioned that Rogue should read the contract first, but with the feel of Remy's bare hands on her face still in the forefront of her mind, she hastily signed away.

Essex led her to one of the private rooms on the second floor. The doctor made small talk as they walked.

With every step, the confidence she felt in Essex's office was waning. She was thinking of the same arguments she had discussed with Jean-Paul (3). That meeting in the coffee shop seemed like months ago instead of days. Once she did this procedure, she was going to change the very fabric of her being. Her powers were a part of her. They helped make her into who she was today. With control over her powers, would she change? Would she be a different person when she stepped out of Genesis? If she was, would she still like herself?

While she was thinking, she autopiloted her way into a paper examination gown while Essex left the room. She looked down at her hands: Her gloves were still on. She unsnapped the left wristband and pulled the glove off, tugging one finger at a time. Rogue's bare left hand traced her right palm. The leather of her glove was worn and tired. She needed to buy a new pair, but instead she clung to her old, comfortable gloves. They had character, like her. Rogue pulled off her other glove and stared at her bare hands.

Rogue exhaled and forced a smile to calm herself down. She imagined being able to touch and feel things with her own two hands without worry: another hand in hers, the five o'clock shadow on Remy's face. . . How much would this change her? Would she even still like Remy? He'd shown her time and time again that it was her self, her soul that he liked -loved - the most. It was her voice he needed to hear in his darkest hours. Rogue's head shot up when she remembered Remy's reaction to her kiss in her dream: "Who de hell are you?" Rogue gasped. Would Remy like the new her?

She started hyperventilating. What was she doing? Why should she be changing for some guy? Some guy she didn't think would stay with her because he couldn't touch her, despite his reassurances to the contrary? Why was she doing this? _This isn't for me. It's for him._ But that was a lie. It wasn't for him. It was her fear that he would leave that drove her here, and her deep desire for a physical connection after being delivered a life sentence of isolation because of her powers, her joke of a "gift."

The door to the private room sprung open, waking Rogue from her thoughts. Dr. Essex was about to introduce Rogue to the gothic lab assistant with long black pigtails beside him, but paused when the X-Man hopped off the table with confidence. "Ah changed mah mind, doc. Sorry, 'bout wastin' your time and makin' ya work at the buttcrack of dawn on a Saturday, but Ah can't go through with it. Mah powers make meh who Ah am. Ah've finally accepted that and be damned who wants ta change that or meh. Good-bye."

Waiting for the pair to leave, Rogue stood in the center of the room, awkwardly holding her clothes in her arms. When they didn't budge, alarm crept up her spine. Following her instincts, Rogue grabbed her boots from the floor and headed for the door. If they weren't leaving, she was. She had almost made it when Essex grabbed her. She glared at the man blocking her way while he smiled.

His voice was calm. "I'm impressed by your resolve, but I can't allow you to leave. You signed a contract, my dear."

Rogue was incredibly confused by the doctor's behavior. "But Ah'm not goin' through with the treatment!"

Dr. Essex nodded. "Yes, you are, Miss Rogue. You should have read the fine print." He nodded to the tattooed lab assistant beside him. "Leash (4)."

"My pleasure, boss-man!" she exclaimed. A thin band of blue energy flew like a whip from the girl's fingertips. Leash was able to ensnare the unsuspecting mutant around the neck. Rogue's mind raced while she watched her body, wearing a blue collar, calmly lay down on the table.

Rogue struggled to regain control as she watched as Dr. Essex twist knobs on some gas canisters in one corner, while Leash became increasingly stressed in another. Rogue screamed in her mind and tried to rally the various voices and memories in her head to do something. Meanwhile, the girl in pigtails began to sweat.

Essex turned to his assistant, holding a gas mask in his hands. "Leash?"

"Oh, sweet Sally Field the Flying Nun!" she exclaimed, completely loosing her mental binding to Rogue and falling to her knees.

Rogue left her clothes this time and speed out of the room. In the sterile hallway, she looked behind her to see if anyone was following her. At that moment, Rogue collided with an old acquaintance. Luckily, no skin contact was made with the Canadian skier.

"Careful there, girl." Jean-Paul targeted Rogue's stomach, covered by her examination gown, and easily kicked Rogue to the ground. "Don't want to touch you before you're fixed. That'd ruin all the fun."

Rogue crawled backwards. "What's goin' on?"

The smile on Jean-Paul's face was familiar, but Rogue couldn't place it. "Upgrades, obviously," he said. He looked over her head at the approaching pair. "I stopped her, boss."

"Good work, Malice," Essex praised.

Rogue's eyes grew wide. Malice? But Malice was blonde! And a woman! Rogue racked her brain to remember what Remy said her powers were. Instead, she remembered how Remy met her (5). Malice called Essex her boss, making Essex. . .

"Oh, shit!" Rogue took a chance and dove toward Jean-Paul/Malice's feet. As she lifted up his pant leg, Rogue felt a sharp pain in her backside. The distraction was long enough, and Malice was able to evade skin-to-skin contact by flying down a side hallway.

With one escape route open, Rogue struggled to her feet, but her left did not respond as it should. Rogue fell face first into the floor.

Malice ran back to the group, just outside Rogue's reach. Laughing, Malice mocked the girl. "Graceful prey, you are." Leash joined in, giggling.

Rogue struggled to crawl away, but she couldn't feel her left leg. When she flipped over to face her attackers, she saw the empty syringe in the doctor's hand. "Local anesthetic. Her leg will be numb for a few hours." The doctor looked to his minions. "Take her back to the room."

Embarrassed, Leash rubbed her neck. "I can't keep a bind on her. There's a frickin' huge party going on in her head, and they fight dirty."

"I'm not touching her," Malice exclaimed. "You know what'll happen!"

A great danger glinted in Essex's eyes. "I didn't say touch her. I said, 'take her back to the room.' Drag her, wrap her in a blanket, I don't care. Just make sure you don't damage her." He turned his back to prepare for his morning procedure, leaving the girls to take care of Rogue.

Leash bent down to grab Rogue's feet. Not letting an opportunity like that pass her by, Rogue whipped her right leg at Leash, her sock-covered heel hitting the black-haired goth's jaw. A dark leather cloth was wrapped around Rogue's head and upper body, securing her arms to her side. She was lifted off her feet and dropped in her private room a few seconds later.

Malice lowered Jean-Paul's jacket and jammed a gas mask onto Rogue's face. Despite her struggling, Rogue's body relaxed and her mind slowly followed. She fought to pay attention in case they said something she could use to escape.

Malice addressed the bleeding Leash in the doorway. "You all right?"

She clicked her jaw back into place. "I'd be better if you'd stop 'losing' the telepath DNA so I could get a real upgrade. Only being able to influence the motor skills and powers of my dogs is a major liability."

There was a pause before Malice changed the subject. "You still up for looking for new pets tonight? I'm getting tired of this one."

Leash shook her head, still upset at her friend. "Use the bombshell you've been saving."

"No, I have special plans for that one. How about I buy your drinks? It's three-dollar Long Islands until ten. . ."

The goth sighed. "Sure, but only because I'm sick of being cooped up in here."

The last thing Rogue saw before the world finally faded out was Malice's sinister smile. "Fab."

* * *

(1) I used my own poor Spanish skills to translate something like, "He is crazy if he thinks that we'd work together. She won't survive a day!"  
(2) In Neil Gaiman's movie _MirrorMask_, the heroine meets a group of ape-like birds. All but one are named Bob and have orange beaks. Malcolm is the smart one, and he has a blue beak. Don't ask me why, just watch the movie. Oh, and watch the other new Neil Gaiman movie _Stardust_. It rocks!  
(3) Rogue talked with Malice in Jean-Paul's body back in Chapter 13 - You're Touchy Today.  
(4) Leash is a new Savage Land Mutate that was in X-Treme X-Men. I changed her powers a little as later described. Her powers in the comics are a telepathy limited to possessing multiple other living beings. I included her because I thought the Marauders needed some more girls.  
(5) Remy told Rogue about Malice in November Rain: Chapter 12 - Say Goodbye to Nancy, Joan. 

**Next up**: The Brotherhood and allies vs. Pow-R8.

**A/N**: I tried to incorporate as many dream ideas as possible. Sorry for those I missed.

Treasure this chapter that is exclusively Rogue, because we will be following the Brotherhood around until their storyline is finished before coming back for Rogue. She's unconscious, is she really doing anything all that interesting?


	22. You Only Live Once

**A/N: **Sorry for any formatting difficulties (spacing, paragraphs, unnecessary boldness). I fixed them as long as I had patience to do so. It will be better next time. -crosses fingers-

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

******NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-two: You Only Live Once**

At dusk, a half-hour before the light show was set to start, John stood on the dark side of the public restroom with a large backpack containing his flamethrowers lying on the ground beside him. The building stunk like only a public bathroom could, and the firefly prayed for the Brotherhood to hurry up. They were all meeting there, aside from Sabertooth, whom they were meeting at Pow-R8.

He heard footsteps approaching and peeked around the corner. Wanda was coming his way. John fell back on the cold concrete wall of the building. They hadn't said a word to each other since the night before. He would come up to her and open his mouth, but she would walk away. Pietro was jumping for joy.

The witch jumped when she came around the corner. "You're here early."

John looked at his watch. "So are you."

Wanda shrugged. "I was working with stupid people."

"I thought you were working with your brother."

"Yes. . . . "

"Got it. I'm slow tonight. Maybe I should get another coffee." The boy scanned the sky as if a mug would fall out of it.

Wanda handed him a styrofoam cup. "Here, have this."

Although he was surprised and a little suspicious, John took a swig. "UGH!" He spit it right back out. "It's cold and nasty. I wouldn't feed this to a dog."

The witch smirked. "I know. That's why I gave it to you."

"Funny," John said and took another sip. His face scrunched again, but it faded in a few seconds. "Caffeine's caffeine."

Silence fell between them again. Wanda took a step back and looked at her shoes. "This is it, huh?"

Confused, John squinted. "This is wha-huh?"

Wanda looked into his eyes and spoke clearly. "After tonight, you'll be gone."

He shrugged and put his free hand in his pocket. "Well, I have to get my stuff in New York, so I'll be on the train, but after that, yeah."

Wanda kicked the ground. "I see."

She was hurt. John couldn't believe it. The only time he had seen that look on her face was when Magneto lied about John's motives with her (1). John hated that look. It haunted him, and damned if he was going to cause it.

"Well, you know, I don't have to leave right after I give your dad the finger. I'd love the head start, but I could stay around another night or two. We could go get kicked out of a few places around town, shave some cats, or something. Make a good last hurrah." John moved to put his arm around her shoulders.

Sidestepping his grasp, Wanda raised her head to look him in the eye. "What's the point?"

John was taken aback. What would be the point of spending more time together when he was leaving? Was he prolonging their suffering knowing that their time was limited? Should he quit now and try to forget the personified fire standing before him, like she had forgotten him? As in all his times of conflict, he closed his eyes and imagined what his crazy grandfather would say. _No, Grandpapa. I don't think giving her a delicious bass would help _(2).

"Memories," he blurted, then hummed a few bars and swayed to imaginary music.

"Huh?"

John grinned. "You only live once, right? Might as well have fun. You have fun with me, don't you?"

Wanda shrugged and turned her head so he wouldn't see her blush. "You're tolerable."

The Aussie bounded over and hugged her. "I knew it!"

Her body was rigid. "Let go, before I hex you six feet under."

John obeyed her order and stepped back. "Sorry, didn't mean to damage the threads. So what do you say: you, me, and the Bayville Police Force?"

Her smile said yes, but she couldn't resist playing the game. "I'll have to check my schedule."

The firebug threw his arms in the air and scolded her. "It'll be my last night in town! Priorities, woman!"

"I don't know if it'll be worth clearing my calendar if only the cops are invited. Maybe if you could promise some firefighters or the National Guard . . . "

"City, DNR, or wildland?"

"Who?"

"Which kind of firefighters? The city wouldn't be too hard, but it might take some planning to get the DNR or the forest service involved."

"Involved in what?" Pietro popped in over John's shoulder. "Clear-cutting? Strip-mining? Replacing the tree you torched last night?"

Upset at the rude interruption, Wanda's eyes narrowed. "Your murder."

"You're going to kill me with a tree? How boring. I thought you would have been able to come up with better."

John stood back and laughed as Wanda tried to hex her loudmouth brother, but he easily dodged her bolts. Pietro ran behind his sister and grabbed her wrists. "The rest of the boys are here. Playtime's over. We have to get back here in less than an hour and hope people don't notice we were gone for anything more than a lunch or bathroom break. I'm not sure if a million pretty, exploding chemicals in the sky will cover our disappearance, but without Mastermind, it's all we got. Not to mention this place reeks."

Glaring at her brother all the while, Wanda shook herself free and walked to join Freddy.

* * *

The group headed to the riverside Pow-R8 building as planned, with each team taking a different route. Pietro and John walked side by side. The only noise they made was the occasional shuffle, sip, and smoke. Sick of resisting the desire to strangle the Aussie for weaseling his way back into Wanda's good graces, Pietro ran ahead. _Where did he come off? John knows she's messed up, but he keeps pursuing her. He's a crackhead in more ways than one. Someone should throw him in rehab so Wanda can finally get some peace. She's excited, then crushed, then happy, pissed, depressed, flirty. . . as fast as I am, I'm having a trouble keeping track of her demeanor._

This morning, everything was perfect. Wanda hexed him, ignored John, and had returned to her gloomy, trite self. Pietro knew how to deal with her when she was like that. Not this self-conscious, dark-humored Wanda he found flirting – actually flirting – with the moron behind the bathrooms. _He's no good for her_-_ why can't she see it?_

Pietro was already in uniform when John caught up with him. He decided to ignore his complaints about being left behind. "Is everyone in position?" Pietro asked in his communicator.

The Aussie took off the plainclothes covering his uniform and began adjusting his flamethrowers on his back. "Could you find something less conspicuous to wear?" Pietro asked.

"Yours is bright blue with shiny silver armor." John tested his flamethrowers. "And not fire-proof." The pyromaniac's evil laughter stopped when Pietro held up his hand.

"Keep it down," Pietro snapped. "I should have gotten you exorcised. I'd have less spitting and cackling to deal with."

Todd's voice came over the communicator. "I'm logged in, and the camera feed is uploading."

"Great," Pietro replied. "Witch, Blob, go in. Get as far as you can as fast as you can to the dampener without getting noticed. Sabertooth and Avalanche will follow you to the elevators and deal with the guards after the alarm goes off." He glanced at John, who was adjusting the intakes on his weapon. "You ready?"

The Aussie had the glint in his eye that he only got when dealing with fire or Wanda. "Does butter fly?"

Pietro pondered that obscure sentence no longer than two milliseconds before taking off down the alley. Shortly after they entered the building, the alarms sounded. The speed demon backtracked to the employee entrance. He glanced up at Todd, precariously balancing on a window ledge near the security camera. "Shut it off, Toad!"

"I'm tryin',Quicktoast –silver," Todd exclaimed while pounding on the laptop. Frustrated, Todd punched the keyboard. A few keys fell to the ground, and the noise stopped. Pietro and Todd looked at each other in amazement.

"Hey, you pickers! I fixed the alarms; you gonna join us or gaze lovingly into each other's eyes?" St. John shouted from inside.

With a puzzled look on his face, Pietro caught up with John. "Wa? You? How?"

They jumped over the unconscious bodies of the security team as they ran to the stairs. "I was going to torch the security room to the ground. Then I saw the off button. It was big and red." He giggled.

The duo was almost hit by the last two conscious guards flying across the lobby.

"Somebody's enjoying their work," John remarked.

Sabertooth shrugged and started carrying the bodies outside to a dumpster.

Over the communicator, Lance gave Pietro an update. "We're missing one."

"One what?"

The Brotherhood member emerged from around the corner. "One man. I've counted twice now, and there should be one more."

"Are you sure? Your counting skills aren't the best. You did go to school in Bayville. Try it again, and this time remember the vampire on _Sesame Street_."

Remaining stationary, Lance crossed his arms.

"Did you check the security feed?" the leader asked.

This time Lance rolled his eyes. "The security feed's fake, remember?"

"I knew that. I was testing you. He probably called in sick. I know I would. Help Sabertooth carry the rest of them out and go take care of the labs. Keep an eye out in case the guy is hiding in a closet somewhere." Pietro relayed the message of the unaccounted man to the rest of the teams.

Activating his communicator again, Pietro asked, "Blob, how are things going on that dampener?"

Wanda's voice came over the intercom. "We're getting there now. The elevator stopped when the alarm went off."

"Hurry it up! We don't have all night." Pietro stood at the door to the stairwell and faced John. "Fourth floor, second door on the right. Last one there is gay."

The Aussie shook his head as the leader took off. The pair burned paper files and infected computer files while the other teams completed their jobs. There was a small incident in the laboratory with Sabertooth and a mystery vat, but the mutant's healing factor kicked in, only putting him out of commission for a few minutes and giving Lance a nervous breakdown.

After he shut off and destroyed the dampener, Fred joined Lance in removing the non-load bearing walls on each floor while Wanda and Todd ushered the mutants to the lobby of the building.

A bigger dilemma arose as Pietro finished dumping the last drawer of paper files on Pyro's blaze. "Don't kill the messenger, but we have a little problem, Quicksilver," Todd announced into the communicator.

"What now?" he groaned.

"Uh, you know that guy that was supposed to teleport these people out? Well, he ain't there."

"WHAT?!"

With an irritated tone, Wanda replied over Pietro's cursing. "They say they took him away this morning when they couldn't find his brother."

First, Pietro turned to John. "Finish here, Pyro." Then the field leader called into his communicator. "Sabertooth, Scarlet Witch, meet me at the elevator."

A few minutes later,Wanda was showing the two the cell the twins occupied. Sabertooth caught a scent and followed it back to the elevator. They stopped at every floor trying to recover the twin's scent. It was hard to distinguish on the sublevels because of all the traffic that went through there, but Sabertooth picked up enough on the examination room floor.

Lance and Freddy had not yet gotten to that floor to take out the periphery walls, so it looked as it did the day before, when Wanda rescued Jimmy. As they followed the feral mutant, Pietro looked at his sister and noticed she was tense.

"What's your problem?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you grinding your teeth?"

Wanda clenched her jaw. "I am not grinding my teeth."

"Deaf people could hear you. They probably heard you snore last night too."

"Like you care."

"I do care. It might ruin my reputation with Florida women. If they know my sister sounds like a bulldozer when she sleeps, then they'll think it runs in the family."

"Great, I'm providing a public service. Maybe I should join the Peace Corps."

The speed demon was about to pester her more when Sabertooth stopped in front of an examination room in the far back corner. It was locked, but Wanda was able to solve that problem quickly.

Inside, the remaining twin, Timmy, lay unconscious hooked up to an I.V., a respirator, and a heart monitor.

"Great, now what?" Wanda asked her brother.

Pietro skimmed the guy's charts. "He fell into a coma when they questioned him about his brother. They think it's because of added stress and the overdose of the juice he got. They don't expect him to live the night." Pietro threw the clipboard to the ground.

Wanda's eyes didn't leave the virtually lifeless body as she whispered, "We should have freed him when we had the chance."

Pietro raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She glared at her brother, her face red with anger and guilt. "We shouldn't have abandoned him yesterday. We took away his brother and left him to rot here so we could complete our perfect little plan. He didn't do anything wrong, and now look at him: sick and broken."

Pietro's eyes widened at the irony of Wanda's statement. That was exactly what his father had done to her and how she had turned out. At least this guy's brother left to try to save his friends. What had he done when he let father lead him back to the car and then off to foster care? He was a coward, and his sister had paid the price. Now she was even more confused since he let his father try and "fix" things. Can't forget the damn Aussie and the Cajun were trying to "fix" things too. Wouldn't anyone leave his sister alone? _Alone like I did._

He pushed his guilt aside and recomposed himself. "And how, dear sister, would we have done that? Asked nicely?" Pietro raised his voice mockingly. "Hey, I know you're trying to exterminate all mutants using some sort of bottle beverage, but would you mind letting all these people out who you see as nothing more than experiments? They aren't getting enough vitamin D in their cells. Soon they might get scurvy or rickets or something." He turned his back to her and stared at the comatose Timmy.

Wanda shoved him for insulting her intelligence. "No! We could have – "

"Shut up!" he snapped. "You're not helping. I need to figure out how to get these people out of here, and I can't do that with you PMSing and screaming like a banshee." He also didn't want her to say something to make him feel guilty again. Pietro ran a hand through his white hair. The static electricity he accumulated jumpstarted his brain. He fixed his gaze on Wanda. "Wake him up."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Hex him to wake up."

"I've never done that before!"

"Try it!"

"What if I kill him?"

"Then he'd be just as good to us as he is now. We don't have a lot of time left. Do it!"

With uncertainty spread across her face, Wanda rubbed her upper arm. She shook away her nervousness and said, with a new determination, "I'll try, but not because you ordered me to."

Closing her eyes, the witch concentrated on the task at hand. She moved closer to the bed and placed her hands lightly on his forehead and chest. Soon the tall, lanky man was immersed in a blue glow. He sat up suddenly, gasping for breath and choking on the respirator. Surprised, Wanda stumbled backward and tangled herself in the I.V.

Without a word to the others in the room, Pietro unhooked all the machinery and ran Timmy upstairs to the lobby. He set the hacking man down near the group. "Now teleport these people to your brother before you die," Pietro commanded.

The twin was incredibly confused why it was night and how he got to the lobby, but did not question the speed demon's orders. He reached out to the two Morlocks closest to him. "Get everyone on the outside to hold hands."

Pietro sped along the outside of the group, hooking people's hands together. "Kumbaya, people. There, done!"

The teleporter was about to give another order, but a coughing fit interrupted him. Pietro rolled over the water cooler and gave him a drink. After helping the dying man get to his feet, Pietro was told to stand clear. Timmy brought his hands together, still tightly gripping his neighbors. There was a flash of blinding light, and everyone was gone.

"You think they made it out all right?" Todd asked Pietro.

The leader shrugged. "Not our problem now."

The elevator dinged, revealing Sabertooth and Wanda. Before starting another argument with Wanda, Pietro told everyone to clear out, including Lance and Fred, who had not finished their demolition work. Sabertooth went out drinking, and Pietro sent Wanda, Todd, and Fred back to the Light Parade. He didn't need them for the demolition, only Lance and John.

Pietro scanned the empty lobby. "Where the hell is Pyro?"

* * *

"Tenth floor, genius, or did you forget about the executives' offices?" John told Pietro over the communicator as he spun around in the Aeron chair, laughing maniacally and watching the fireworks show out the riverside window. 

Five seconds later, Pietro was blocking his view. "Get moving, Pyro!" He pointed to the stairwell. "Downstairs! It's time to implode this thing."

John spun around once more. "Can I keep the chair?"

"No, you can't keep the chair! We're going to knock the building down, remember? You weaken the support beams in the lobby, and Lance brings it down so it falls on the factory, not us."

The Aussie kept the pleadinglook in his eyes and pointed through a smashed wall at a large orange sphere. "How about the ball?"

"You need a ball? I didn't realize Wanda had cut yours off already."

"I don't _need_ a ball. I have a perfectly healthy pair. I only _want_ the ball to straighten out my posture as I write." To anger Pietro, John added, "Can't go getting a hernia doing any strenuous activity." He winked. "That'd be no fun at all for anybody."

"Uh, gross, and NO!" Again, Pietro pointed to the stairway.

"Fine, grumpy-puss," John mumbled as he trekked off after the leader.

They hurried down the stairs in silence, aside from the occasional flick on the back of John's neck from Pietro. Upon opening the door to the first floor, they were surprised to find Wanda still there. "I told you to leave," Pietro shouted. "You're supposed to be at the Parade making up excuses about where I wandered off to."

The witch pushed off the wall she was leaning on and started to walk out. "I had to make sure you didn't screw anything else up. I can leave now."

Her brother zipped in front of her, blocking her path. "I didn't screw anything up. I fixed things."

She nodded. "Sure you did." She tried to brush past him again.

Pietro again blocked her path. He pointed at the Aussie behind her. "You didn't stay for me. You stayed for him! Had to make sure I wasn't going to damage you precious little toy."

"So?"

"I'm a toy?"John's question was unheard by the others.

"Father's not going to like this one bit. He'll probably blame me for not keeping a better eye on you."

The witch put her hands on her hips. "You, you, you. Everything is about you, and how it will affect you – "

Raising his hand, John asked, "Is this the moment?"

"Shut up!" they said in unison.

While the Maximoffs engaged in a typical sibling bickering session, John noticed a little stick man on a nearby door. "Nature calls." He pushed the door open into the dark men's room.

Two gunshots interrupted the argument. John stumbled backward, looking down at two growing red spots on his chest. He poked them to make sure they were real. His hands were soon covered. He felt a weakness in his step, and everything became fuzzy. That was when he first realized that this was it.

He had imagined many ways he could have died over the years, but not one of them two small metal balls not thrown at him by Magneto. His mind used the last of its energy to remind him of all he had done and all the things he had resolved to do in his life but hadn't. He hadn't gotten a book published. He hadn't drunk a beer with his Grandpapa at his grave. He hadn't beaten the world record for largest rubber band ball. He never told her he loved her. Hell, he hadn't fully realized that was what that feeling was until now.

He locked eyes with the shocked witch down the hallway. _You were the One_. He fell to the ground and everything went black.

* * *

(1) All the way back in Nine to Five: Chapter 20 - The Feces Hit the Fan. 

(2) In reference to the randomness that is _Napoleon Dynamite_. Pedro for President!

**Next on November Rain: **????? I love being evil. –weg-


	23. Something to Live For

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-three: Something to Live For**

The Scarlet Witch watched in disbelief as Pyro's smile faded. He looked down at the holes in his chest in amazement. The witch was frozen in time as she locked eyes with the Aussie. He sent a silent message to her through his glance before his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed. As he fell, Wanda screamed.

The world around her was enveloped in blue energy; then everything faded. She found herself floating in a dark space surrounded by circular lights. There was one light immediately in front of her, although it wasn't spherical like the others. The light was of splitting into two independent stars, like cells in mitosis. Curious, yet cautious, Wanda reached out to touch it.

A familiar voice echoed in the light-filled void, startling her. "Be careful what you alter here, child. Its effects may reach farther than you think."

Like a child caught in the cookie jar, Wanda snapped her hand to her chest. She turned her head to the cloaked figure. "Agatha? What are you doing here?"

"You summoned me."

"I did?"

"Well, not me, specifically. The entire magical community on the East Coast, even those unfamiliar with their powers, felt your pain and entrance into the Nexus. Even your brother did and tried to accompany you here in your energy wake." Agatha pointed to a Pietro-shaped shadow at Wanda's side.

Wanda turned from the shadow back to her mentor. "The Nexus?"

"If you had continued your training, you would know what the Nexus is."

The Scarlet Witch looked sheepishly at her boots. "My father . . . "

"Your father is a close-minded scientist with no time or patience for the magical, no matter how important it is to the health of his daughter and the fate of the world. If you had truly heeded my lessons, you would not have needed your father's blessing."

"What am I doing here? What is this place? Is John okay?" The witch asked the question even though she had witnessed the life leave his eyes.

"This is the Nexus. It exists outside our dimensions of perception." The crone reached up and somehow scooped a lighted ball closer to them without touching it. "Each of these spheres is a world. A different reality, if you will. Every time an event of prime significance occurs, a new world will split off from another, sometimes more than one, depending on the possible outcomes. As time passes on, more and more are created, birthed from another before them. And many perish. The one before you is our world, budding into two new realities."

"What happened to make it do that?"

Agatha drew nearer to the witch and their world. She peered into the shinning object. Wanda tried to do the same but saw nothing. Agatha withdrew her face and said, "You paid witness to it."

The color left Wanda's face. "John's dead, isn't he?"

"That is the event being decided. In one of the realities, he lives. In the other, yours and mine, he has passed."

"How can John change the course of an entire world? He's John. He drinks other people's beer and spends his days polishing his lighters."

"I am not a seer. I cannot tell you how his death changes the course. It could be something he will do, people he will touch, or something he prevents from happening. His children, grandchildren. . . The possibilities are endless."

The witch coughed. "John having children is a scary thought. He is a child." The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, remembering his playfulness. Then she remembered the last expression on his face. . . the last she'd ever see. Wanda shook her head and looked up at Agatha with wide eyes. "Agatha, how did I get here? I don't understand."

The old witch sighed. "Every witch has a talent, Wanda. The weakest can only cast certain spells or make potions. Others can create spells or destroy them. Then there are a few with extraordinary powers that allow them to tap further into the spirit world than others. A few witches can speak with the dead, command demons, or alter reality. Like you."

"I don't see dead people."

"No, child. You alter realities. Your mutant powers, at their most basic state, allow you to alter probabilities, making unlikely events happen. That is a form of altering reality. Every time you use your powers, you skim this place. As your powers develop, you will be able to alter realities on a much grander scale, from here and inside your own world." The apprentice looked confused, so Agatha continued, "Your subconscious knows this, even if your conscious mind is not ready to handle it. When you saw your boyfriend die - "

"He's not my boyfriend."

Agatha ignored her commentary. "When he died, you brought yourself here because this is the one place that you, at your current state of development, could summon enough energy to change it."

Wanda could not hide the eagerness in her voice. "Change it? Like, bring him back?" Wanda didn't wait for the witch to speak after she nodded. "How?"

Agatha shook her head. "That is not the question you should be asking. The important question is why. Why is it so important to you for John to live? Why is his life so influential on the fate of the worlds?"

The Scarlet Witch ground her teeth in frustration. "I can figure out the why later. Show me how!"

The crone sighed. "There are responsibilities you much accept when one alters two worlds to the degree you are considering - "

"I DON'T CARE!" Her voice shook the various worlds. Or was it an emotional display of her undeveloped powers? Either way, the Nexus didn't like it. Neither did Agatha Harkness.

She moved across from the young witch and placed her hands underneath the dividing world. "I will show you what you ask, but only because you are too unstable to stay here and throw a tantrum. Now place your hands upon mine, face up."

Wanda followed her instructions and started meditating like she did before every spell.

"Now peer inside the worlds. . ."

Wanda leaned over as Agatha had done before, but only saw the bright light. "What am I supposed to see?"

"The event. Your mind must be clear."

"It is clear."

"No, it is not. You are full of emotional turmoil. This is a very delicate procedure. Once your mind is clear and focused on the task at hand, you will be able to see."

"How can I be focused when I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Whose fault is that?" the old witch snapped. After seeing the hurt look on Wanda's face, Agatha sighed. "Enough of this. You are acting like a child. Start over with your meditation."

Wanda exhaled and tried again. She opened her eyes and peered into the glowing overgrown peanut. This time, she saw it again. His smile, his surprise, his last glance. Losing her concentration and clear mind, the world started to fade out once more. Wanda struggled to retain the vision. "Now what?" she whispered, fearing speaking any louder might break the world.

"Now you must draw power, energy, from yourself. You may draw some power from me as well. Use this energy to roll back time. Push the worlds back together. You must be steady; the stream of energy must not fluctuate. While you are merging the realities, imagine a different outcome to the crucial event."

"Like what?"

"Use your imagination."

Wanda reached out and felt the flows of different energies around her. She fed a line from herself and a line from Agatha into the worlds. She took a breath and began bringing her hands closer together. It was like molding playdough, only the closer her hands became, the harder it was to push the two splitting worlds together. Beads of sweat fell down her face. She strained, trying to concentrate on a new outcome while realigning the realities. Trouble was, she needed more power.

"What are you doing, child?" Agatha's alarm almost broke her concentration. "You mustn't take energy from your brother! It'll - "

Suddenly the worlds fit together like two puzzle pieces; a flash of light blinded her and blew her away from her mentor. When her eyes readjusted, she was back in the Pow-R8 office building, sitting on a squishy floor. Feeling something poking her bottom, she shifted her weight. The squishy floor groaned. Wanda inspected her cushion. "Pietro?"

Her brother wiggled out from underneath. "What did you do to me?" he groaned. "And you are totally gaining weight."

The stairwell door opened, and a surprised Aussie walked through. He looked back over his shoulder and ran in a circle like a dog chasing his tail. "Wow, Norma. You are fast."

Wanda stared at the living, breathing St. John with shock, wonder, and happiness. Her face began to break out into a grin when Pietro interrupted her view.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" he asked.

Wanda glared. "Fixed things."

John rolled his eyes at the siblings and pointed to a door on his left. Although he figured they weren't listening, he announced his destination. "Bathroom. Nature calls."

As he pushed open the door, Wanda shoved Pietro out of the way and screamed, "NO!"

The Aussie turned his head as he passed through the doorway and suddenly fell to the ground; at the same time a gunshot rang out.

The witch hurried to the restroom, and, before the gunman's eyes adjusted to the light, he was flung across the hallway. "YOU BASTARD!" The guard's body was stretched out like a snow angel on the wall. He began sinking into the drywall, his molecules intermingling with the plaster.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "It wasn't supposed to happen again!"

The witch turned when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were glowing so fiercely her pupils couldn't be seen.

Pietro's grip was firm. "Stop it, Wanda!"

She was devoid of any reserve or sympathy. Twice Wanda witnessed this man shoot John; three including the time in the Nexus. He needed to suffer for John, for her. Her own guilt at not heeding Agatha's lessons and warnings was pushed into punishing this man. If she had only continued her lessons with the old woman she might have been prepared. The "good" daughter that she was, she listened and obeyed her father. Maybe John was right. Maybe her father could control her as no one else could.

Pietro yelled something else at her, but the witch couldn't hear. She used her free hand to animate a nearby plant and drag her brother away.

The guard's mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. The colors from his uniform blended with the white walls to look like a large shadow.

A groan from her feet startled her, but not as much as the voice that followed. "Bloody hell, that smarts."

Shocked, Wanda released her hold on everything in the room. The man she was torturing left her mind. She slowly turned to see John sitting up in the bathroom doorway, rubbing the back of his head. The witch began shaking, frozen to her spot.

John reached down between his feet and pulled up a rubbery peel. He twisted his body to show the twins behind him. "I think bananas became my new favorite fruit!"

Realizing this wasn't a dream or an illusion, Wanda fell to her knees. "John?" When he twisted toward her a little more, she noticed his left arm. "You're bleeding!"

The Aussie looked down at where the bullet grazed his upper arm. Glancing back at Wanda, he smiled. "Only a flesh wound, luv." He ignited a fire from his right flamethrower and used it to cauterize the wound. "See, all better." He looked up at the motionless man fused into the wall. "Ewww. That had to have hurt. Can I say that if at any point you want to kill me, Wanda, that I'd prefer the slow crushing with a large rock to that?"

There was nothing that could wipe the relieved smile off the witch's face. . . except for Pietro's body blocking her from passionately attacking the pyromaniac. Before she knew it, Wanda was outside the employee entrance with her brother and Lance, who was sitting against a nearby building waiting for the show to close curtain. "Time to leave, Wanda," he growled. "We'll talk about what the hell you did later."

Wanda planted her feet. "I'm not leaving without him, and I'm definitely not leaving him alone here with you."

"Yes, you are. It's not up for discussion!" Pietro activated his communicator. "Blob, how far away are you?"

Freddy's reply was nervous but honest. "Two blocks. I'd be farther but there was this hot dog stand, and – "

"Good. Get back here and take Wanda with you. Don't let her go until you are at the Parade. No matter what she says to you or how many hot dog stands she hexes in your path you are not to stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Wanda narrowed her eyes, but before she could hex her brother, a pair of handcuffs clasped her wrists behind her back.

Pietro appeared in front of her. "I had other plans for the guard's handcuffs, but I guess I'll have to buy my own pair." He extended a hand to Lance. "Here's the key. Give it to Blob when he gets here."

In one final attempt to hex him, Wanda turned her back on her brother and bent over. The bolt was wild and hit the security camera, shorting out the entire system. Now alone with Lance, Wanda sighed and sat on the cold ground to wait for her escort.

* * *

The building came down during the fireworks as planned. While John sustained the hottest fires he had ever created around each of the support beams, Lance brought the office building down by shaking the support closest to the bottling factory and following with the others. There was a lot of dust and smoke, but the boys managed to find their way back to the riverside celebration. 

Upon returning to the Light Parade, a few of the Brotherhood were reprimanded for disappearing, but their tracks were easily covered since they were not the only volunteers to leave their post to watch the show.

Exhausted, everyone met at the gates to go back to the hotel. The minute Wanda and Pietro were together, a great tension filled the air. No one aside from John and Freddy spoke on the way back. It was nothing more than a few light comments and complaints, but despite their attempts, the air did not lighten.

Everyone headed to the pair of rooms the Maximoffs, Lance and John shared. As soon as they entered, Pietro grabbed Wanda's arm, pulled her into their room, and locked the adjoining door. Wanda hexed him into a chair and turned to head back into the other room. She turned the dead bolt before Pietro managed to stop her.

"You're not leaving until you tell me what the hell happened."

The witch's eyes narrowed. "I told you that I fixed things."

He leaned over and whispered harshly. "John died! How do you fix that?"

Stepping back, Wanda widened her eyes in surprise. "You remember?"

He continued to whisper. "Of course I remember! He died, you went crazy, I was stuck in Nowhere Land, and then, you're sitting on top of me and he's alive. It was like a bad Stephen King movie where nothing changes and nobody learns anything. No, a bad Stephen King cartoon. How else do you explain the banana peel?"

She sat down on her bed and grabbed her knees. "Do you think he remembers?"

Pietro stood over her, waving his arms about. "I don't care if he remembers!" He put his hands on her knees and looked her in the eye. "What the hell did you do? Did you make some pact with the devil?"

His sister squinted at him. "No! Where did you get that idea?"

He stood up, removing his hands. "You're a witch. Isn't he some close, personal friend of yours?"

Wanda slammed her fist on the bed. "You stereotypical bastard. Witches are not satanists!"

"Then how do you explain it?" Pietro pointed his finger in her face. "I know it was you. Although why is a complete mystery to me."

The witch turned away. "Why, why, why. Is that all you people care about?"

"No, I care about my wellbeing and that you're raising people from the dead. Will I see Mom next?"

Hearing some taps on the adjoining wall, Wanda hexed the room sound-proof. "I didn't raise him from the dead."

Pietro's limited patience was waning. "What. Did. You. Do?"

"I do what I always do. I altered probablity."

"Bull. He was already dead! His eyes were rolled back in his head. He was losing body heat. And not like the guy you melted into the building. And to think, only a few minutes before you were worried about killing Timmy the teleporter."

Wanda covered her ears and turned her back to her brother. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

"No, I'm not going to shut up. What the hell happened?"

"GO AWAY!" she screamed, but refused to look at him.

"NO!" He took a deep breath to calm himself a level. His voice was a normal volume when he spoke again. "I'm not leaving you alone this time. I'm your brother, and I'm sticking by you - "

"First time for everything," she mumbled into her knees.

"Look, it's not easy for me - "

"Me, me, me. Looks like we're back on the only subject you like talking about."

Pietro ran to the door, putting his hand on the knob. "Forget it! I don't know why I even bother! You're an obsessive psycho who never knows what the hell she's doing with her one-track mind."

Glaring at her brother, Wanda's next words dripped with venom. "I am not a psycho." She hexed the outer door shut.

"Oooo, did I hit a sore spot? You know, you and that idiot in the other room deserve each other. You're both crazy."

"I AM NOT CRAZY!" Clutching her head, Wanda groaned in pain. Her hand fumbled on the nightstand for her bottle of painkillers.

Knowing he had crossed the line when he called her crazy, Pietro rushed a glass of water to Wanda. He sat down gently on the bed beside her.

She took the glass without a mumble of thanks. Pietro sat fiddling with his hands. "I know you aren't crazy."

"That makes one of us," she mumbled.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't let him die."

"He was already dead."

"Don't say that." She turned her head so he wouldn't see her eyes getting red.

Grabbing Wanda by the shoulders, he forced her to look at him. "It happened, Wanda! He should be pushing up daisies, not chuckling in the next room. It isn't natural." He choked up near the end, finally realizing how emotionally distraught she was.

"And who are you to say it isn't natural?" she snapped. "Besides, that's the way it is now. It's how I made it be. Deal with it." Her last sentence had a definitive tone Pietro recognized.

Her brother stood up with his back to her. "Now you sound like Dad."

This time Wanda's reply was softer. "So what if I am? Is that so bad? He's trying to make the world better for us."

"But at what cost?"

Wanda played with the rings on her hand. "That's what John said."

Pietro had no response to that. He and John having the same opinion seemed like the most absurd thing in the world. With all the idiotic things he says, John had to say one thing that was right. "Don't go making Dad your role model. His ambitions blind him to the important things in life."

"What's more important that ensuring that you'll live free the next day?"

"Who you spend it with. Making sure there is something left in the world to live for."

"Dad can't figure that out?"

"He's getting better, but he has a long way to go." Pietro sighed and slipped on a jacket. "Look, I've got to take a walk. Clear my head. I'll be back later."

Wanda had a slight smile on her face now. "Don't you think your head is empty enough?"

"Obviously not, since I said I was walking."

As Pietro raised his leg to jet, Wanda called out one last thing. "When I brought him back . . .that's what I was doing."

"Huh?"

"'Making sure there is something left to live for.'"

"That's what I was afraid of," were his last words before he sped off for the night.

* * *

(1) What?! No allusions, comments, or references. Not one! Who wrote this chapter? Me. Then what was I on? The world may never know. 

**A/N:** To avoid these questions/comments later: In my story, John is not yet immune to fire, even the fire he manipulates. He is simply has such great control that he never gets burned. Hence, he is able to cauterize his bullet wound, stopping the bleeding.

**Next up: **The boys hijack Sabertooth's moonshine. 'Nuff said.


	24. The Important Question Is Why

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-four: The Important Question Is Why**

The door to Lance and John's room opened and shut quickly. Todd, Lance, and Fred looked up from the television to see John bumbling around with a paper grocery bag in his arms. The Aussie's first order of business was stumbling to the windows and pulling all the curtains shut.  
"Are you pretending to be Remy?" Lance asked as St. John, clenching the heavy bag to his chest, pressed himself to the wall next to one of the windows.

John's eyes grew wide, and he ran to put a finger to Lance's lips. "Sssshhhh." His eyes flicked back and forth while Lance's rolled.

Completely forgetting his sneaky behavior, John straightened up and listened. The only sounds came from the television and Fred's asthmatic breathing. John pointed to the adjoining room. "They killed each other already? And I missed it?" he exclaimed.

Todd shook his head. "Naw, Snookems hexed the wall so we couldn't hear nothin'. The last thing we heard was Wanda was makin' an army of zombies."

The Aussie's head perked with interest. "Zombies? Really?" He put the bag down on the dresser while snatching a glass.

"I wouldn't - " Lance started.

St. John didn't remember anything from the moment he put the glass to the wall to waking up lying on the floor looking into Todd's gigantic eyes. "Oh, no. I must be in hell," he groaned.

"You're a retard," Lance declared and went back to watching television.

Abruptly, the twice-fried Aussie sat up. "How long was I out?"

Lance turned up the volume. "Not long enough."

"Freddy?" John asked. The big man shrugged. "Thirty seconds?"

With a new found energy, St. John jumped to his feet and whisked his mystery bag away to the bathroom. "I don't have much time left!" The firebug shut the door and only came out to give Freddy a two-liter of cheap grape soda to drink. Fred left to use his own unoccupied bathroom, folding the metal security guard lock between the door and the frame so he could get back in.

Todd couldn't help but stare at the door to the bathroom. Fumbling, choking, and gasping came from the small room. "What do you - ?"

"Don't!" Lance shouted and pointed at him. "I don't need any gross mental pictures."

The door slammed with a force that buried the handle and the door stop in the wall. Lance had barely taken cover behind the bed when Sabertooth trod into the room looking pissed. "Where is it?" he growled. No one answered him. "WHERE?"

Todd popped his head out from under the bed. "We don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, yo."

The large cat sniffed the air. His eyes followed from the door to the windows to the dresser and rested finally on the bathroom. "There!" he pointed.

Sabertooth ripped the bathroom door off its hinges, pulling a good portion of wall with it. A fireball met his face and dissolved against the wall behind him.

"I think we lost our deposit on this crib," Todd hopped onto the dresser where he had a better view of Sabertooth tossing John around the bathroom. The fighting ended when St. John threw a large glass jar with a dark liquid inside into the other room. The cat dropped John like a bad prom date and dove to catch it.

John walked into the room with another glass jar filled with dark liquid. A kitten of fire pawed the jar from beneath. "Aww, the little kitty wants some too."

Sabertooth leapt at the second jar, but John lifted it out of his reach. "No! You'll ruin it!" said Sabertooth.

Now a bird cage of fire surrounded the jar in his hand, the bars bending carefully around his arm so it didn't burn, the cage large but shrinking. "So this is the only stuff you can get a decent buzz off of, Dreamcoat? You must want it pretty badly."

Sabertooth executed another desperate attempt, but John jumped out of the way and across the beds. The cage was half the size it was before. "Don't be so grabby. I'll give it to you. . . if you promise to take it and leave tonight."

The cat growled for several minutes while the cage around his precious liquid shrunk in size. He finally gave in when he could see the booze starting to evaporate. John handed him the jar but kept his fire spiraling around it. Sabertooth glared at him.

John smiled and shrugged. "Insurance."

The crew followed Sabertooth outside and watched him leave with his two jars of moonshine. At least Sabertooth thought they were both moonshine.

Lance turned to the pyromaniac. "What was the point of that?"

John's eyes twinkled. "No Sabertooth and . . . " John giggled, running back to the rooms.

When the boys caught up, John was coming out of the bathroom with his hands behind his back. Lance crossed his arms, unimpressed. Fred returned clueless from his bathroom and followed Lance's lead. Todd did the same.

John didn't lose heart, pulling the two-liter bottle from his back. The bottle was no longer empty, but filled with a dark liquid. "Ta-da!"

"What's that?" Todd asked.

"The second bottle of Toothy's Moonshine."

Lance shook his head. "You're dead when he figures that out."

"I don't think so. I made him a good substitute: grape soda and rubbing alcohol mostly. It might blind him for a bit, but I figure by the time he makes it through the first jar, he won't be able to taste the second."

"He has enhanced senses."

"And a receding hairline." John waltzed closer to the trio. "Lighten up. If you keep acting like damp squibs (1), I won't share."

"If I wanted some, I'd only have to wait for you to pass out. It wouldn't take much of this stuff."

John smiled and narrowed his eyes. "Is that a challenge?"

* * *

The boys settled in Fred and Todd's room in case the Maximoff feud spilled out from the sound-proofed room. No one had seen Pietro leave, and no one wanted to put their ear to the wall to see if the room was still sound-proofed. They weren't that drunk yet. A couple passes of the moonshine around the circle changed that. 

"Man, we're big men now! We put th-those Pow-R8 flatscanss-s-s in their place. And we survived! We brought the house down. Showed them. And now we're sittin' 'round partying like those guys after they escaped the ca-a-asino guy the second time!" Todd slurred and fell over laughing.

John watched the strange kid roll around. "Huh? I must have put on the wobbly boot already if I didn't get a joke that good."

"I don't think it would have made sense to a sober person," said Lance before taking a swig.

Luckily Fred could translate. "I think he means _Ocean's Twelve_."

"That never happened in _Ocean's Eleven_. They ended at the fountain," said John.

"No, _Ocean's Twelve_. The sequel," Fred explained.

John's face scrunched up in disgust. "Ugh, they made a sequel to a remake?"

Todd sat up, wiping a tear from his eyes. "What's-s-s going on? Whassssssup?" Todd repeated whassup many times receiving only raised brows and annoyed looks.

"Screw waiting for someone to pass out. I say we duct tape his mouth shut now," Lance proposed.

John flung his hand on Lance's shoulder and hung his head. "Lance, mate, buddy, compadre, amigo,. . ." John concentrated to think of another synonym. ". . .mate. We can't break tradition. Besides, I used the last of the toilet seat to tape the duct tape down."

"What?"

John lifted his head and shook Lance as he yelled, "WE CAN'T BREAK - "

Lance shoved him over. "I heard what you said, numbskull." He stood up and walked to the bathroom. "Why the hell did you tape the seat?"

Remaining on the floor, John only giggled.

Lance called out from the bright little room. "Holy hell! It isn't just on the toilet. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"You're a mean drunk, Lancey, mate," was John's reply.

He stomped out of the bathroom. "I'll show you mean!"

Fred stood up and attempted to stand between them but fell to the ground instead. The room shook, but nothing broke. Lance and John forgot they were arguing as they watched Fred try several times to stand. Finally he righted himself and said what he crossed the room to say: "Why can't we be friends?"

The phrase signaled John to break out in song, and Lance threw the hotel room service binder at him. John stopped singing, but continued to hum as he leafed through the menu. "I'm starved. Anyone else want anything?"

Lance rained on his parade. "The kitchen's closed by now. There's no one down there."

"Then I'll have to cook myself, and no one will stop me." He bounded up and out of the room, laughing maniacally.

The room was silent for a minute with only Todd, Fred, and Lance. Fred had fallen down once more and remained there, and Todd was staring at a light bulb with a fixation Lance didn't understand.

"Wait. The kitchen probably has some open flame, doesn't it?" Lance's eyes widened at the realization. "Shit." He groaned and trudged to the door, since no one else was in any condition to go after the pyromaniac. With his hand on the door, Lance was jostled by Freddy's quick bolt to the duct taped encased bathroom. He heard him rip off the toilet seat with ease and vomited. The problem was, Freddy's dinner didn't enter the toilet bowl. It bounced back up in Fred's face and spilled onto the floor because John had covered the bowl with the shower cap.

"Shit," he groaned again. He headed to help his big friend, hoping the hotel staff could stop the Aussie from doing something stupid.

* * *

After downing a painkiller, Wanda watched the water flow into the drain. She splashed some on her face and stared at her reflection. She heard Agatha's words in her head: "The important question is why. Why is it so important to you for John to live?" 

It was a question she didn't know the answer to; one she was afraid to find. Pietro forced her to start looking, but she didn't like it. He made her admit that she had strong feelings for the Aussie. So strong that she would bring him back from the dead. She shuddered and broke contact with her own eyes.

She needed him. After spending less than a week with the guy, she needed him like she needed air. She couldn't understand what made him so special. How could he find pieces of herself that she forgot existed? How could he know her so well? How did he know what to say? There was something she was missing. Some connection she wasn't making.

Wanda scrutinized herself in the mirror. What about her reminded him of his ex? There were times when the sparkle would leave his eyes and only sadness remained. She knew he was thinking about _her_ then. The witch growled. _She's the reason he's leaving, that little wench. I've never met her, and she's ruining my life._

Agatha's words returned to her head: "When you saw your boyfriend die -"

Wanda looked from the mirror to her hand gripping the porcelain sink. He wasn't her boyfriend, not really. There was no agreement between them. They hung out, made out, but they didn't talk about dates or introduce each other with any special title. Usually Wanda rejected society norms, but something deep down craved the authenticity of an official relationship. She wanted to be able to go up to a friend or stranger and tell them that this was hers. That there was someone to stand by her through her fits, depressions, insecurities, joys, and laughter. She wanted the world to know that she was no longer alone.

It was as if she was locked in a small room for years. John came along and showed her that life existed, even there. The room started to crumble, and she was free. Except he was leaving. As he walked away, the walls were rebuilt, and she was a prisoner again.

He had to stay. She needed him to stay. She couldn't go back into the room. How could she make him stay? _The little wench could make him stay_. Wanda glared at herself again. What about her wasn't good enough?

A fist flew at the center of the mirror, breaking it. She winced as she pulled pieces of glass from her knuckles. Blood dripped into the sink. Wanda glanced at her handiwork and, instead of one face staring back, there was a little army of angry witches. None of them good enough to make him stay.

Screaming, she spun around and sat on the cold tile floor. Wanda grabbed her knees and ignored her bleeding hand. Her throat tightened, but she didn't cry. Witches don't cry.

Wanda didn't hear the door to Lance and John's room open, but she heard him call: "Wanda, luv." His voice made her heart skip and her stomach flop. She hugged her knees tighter and remained silent. Maybe if she didn't answer, he would leave, and her heart wouldn't break.

No such luck. John's shadow spread from the open doorway to the bathroom. "Scarlet, you want something to eat?"

She turned her head toward the tub, ignoring the question, him, and the world.

In his drunken state, John didn't realize the intensity of Wanda's mood. He flopped himself down on the edge of the tub and administered the poke of doom. "Wanda," he sang. "What do you want to eat? You're sure I'm hungry." John giggled. "I mean, you're hungry."

The witch scooted out of reach. She turned her head away. "Leave me alone."

"Aww, what has turned that beautiful blazing scowl into a frown? Is it the mirror? You shouldn't worry about that. You're a witch, after all. Can't you wave your hands and transfer the seven years bad luck to someone else?" John raised his arm with the enthusiasm of a grade school kid who knew the answer. "Oh, oh, I know the person perfect."

She faced him with dry, red eyes. "Go away, John."

He frowned. "But you haven't heard my plan! It won't be perfect until I fit bananas in it, but you can hear it. Keep in mind: It is a rough draft."

Wanda's hands began to glow. "Go away, or I'll make you." She tried to sound menacing, but it came out flat.

John saw right through it. "Make me do what? I've done a lot of stupid things tonight, so I hope it's - Wanda, your hand!" He pointed to her bleeding fist.

Wanda powered down and turned her hand over. She had forgotten about it.

"Come to Nurse Johnny." He pulled her up by her forearm and hauled her over to the sink. John hummed a tune Wanda didn't recognize as he washed her wounds. He grabbed a hand towel and wrapped it around her hand, patting it dry.

John was babbling about something, but Wanda wasn't paying attention. She stared at the top of his head. It was the place his eyes would be if he ever glanced up from her hand or her cleavage. Finally, he looked at her face. She was prepared to lock his eyes in a tractor beam for a kiss, but he spoke instead. "Scarlet, did you hear me?"

The moment lost, she blinked and shook her head.

"Why did - "

Wanda yanked her towel covered hand from his and stormed as far as she could get in the tiny room. "WOULD YOU STOP ASKING ME WHY?"

John's eyes shifted around the room. "Usually when someone says the secret word, there's confetti and dancing chairs, not screaming (2)."

"Shut up."

"But you said - "

Wanda paced with her hands clutching the sides of her head. "I know what I said!" She spoke to the wall. "I told you to leave."

John cocked his head and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he replied, "But Simon didn't say." He burst out laughing.

Wanda had no energy for his jokes and games. She sunk to her knees. "Just go. Please, go," she begged.

Smiling, John waltzed over and sat on the edge of the tub. "Not when you need cheering up." He shook his head. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

She snapped her head and glared. "Really? I thought you were disappearing from my life after we get back to Bayville."

Hurt, he leaned back. "Not disappear, per se - "

Wanda clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Don't coat it over with pretty words. You're leaving and never looking back." She sprung up and headed to the door.

St. John managed to grab hold of her good hand and pulled her back. She sat down on the toilet. Without letting go of her hand, he declared, "I'll always look back, but I have to go. It's killing me to stay!"

"It's killing me either way," she replied.

Wanda thought about making another escape attempt, but his hand was so warm on top of hers. It tingled with energy. John started to brush her hand with his thumb, calming her. She had almost lost this today. Correction: She did lose it, but managed to bring it back.

The witch stared at their joined hands and said softly, "But if you stay, at least you'd be here."

They were both silent, but John didn't stop stroking her hand. "I don't know what to say."

Wanda snorted. "That's a first."

John chuckled. "Doesn't surprise me that you're the only one that can do it to me."

She tilted her head and studied him: His orange mop was bent down over their hands like he was memorizing every line, every feeling. He wasn't thinking of anyone else but the two people in the room. "The only one?" _Not the wench too?_

He bobbed his head. "You have the strangest effects on me, Wanda Maximoff." He peered into her eyes. "And not just when I'm drunk." He giggled and kissed her.

She pulled away and scrunched her face in disgust. "You taste like a bar room floor."

The Aussie smiled and leaned in. "How do you know that? You licked a bar room floor? That's hot."

Wanda bent her head down so he couldn't see her smile.

John was not to be thwarted so easily. He twisted his body so he could at her face from underneath her unruly hair. Letting go of her hand, he gently poked the corner of her mouth. "That's what I like to see. My smile."

Jerking her head up, she asked, "Your smile?"

"You don't smile like that for anyone. That's my secret smile. You give it to me only."

Raising an eyebrow, Wanda played it cool. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I don't have to. That is your very special 'my boyfriend's an idiot but he's my idiot' smile. There - "

"Boyfriend?"

John sighed loudly and dropped his head in his hand. "Not this again." He raised his head and spoke to the light fixture. "What do I have to do? Haven't I earned it yet?"

To Wanda, this conversation was coming out of no where. She didn't remember the car ride the day they went to the _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ together (3). "You want to be my boyfriend?"

John squinted, then nodded. "I thought about being your necklacey thing… it's got a great view, but I decided that the transformation would be more painful than I would like."

With a half-smile on her face, the witch smacked John with her good hand and fingered her ankh. "Pervert."

Pretending to be in pain, John rubbed his right shoulder. "Maybe I was wrong."

Remembering John's imminent departure, Wanda shook her head. "Does this mean you're staying?"

The drunk boy was confused. "Stay where?"

"Are you still leaving when we get back to Bayville?" she growled.

The Aussie smacked his forehead. "I forgot about that."

"How could you forget?" she snapped.

John looked away, playing with the shower curtain. "Good question," he whispered.

The look in his eyes told her she'd lost him to the wench again. Wanda scolded herself for not thinking of her choice of words. The wench was gone; she was here. Wanda was the one that had "strange effects" on him. She was the one with the special smile. How could that not measure up?

Frustrated, Wanda stood up. "Never mind."

A hand landed on her arm. She stopped, looking first at John's hand, then his face.

The boy's eyes were full of guilt. "Can I have a kiss goodbye this time? He was lying. I'd never do that to you. Believe me."

Although the words sounded familiar, Wanda ignored John's nonsense. "I'm not the one leaving!"

"Please, Wanda?"

She couldn't resist the look in his eyes and the tremors in his voice when he said her name. It reassured Wanda that the wench was gone from his mind. Relishing that she was the one he asked for, she sat back down and acted like she was doing a chore. With his breath, it was a little bit. Their lips met. Wanda only meant to give him a peck, but when she began to pull away, he leaned in and pried her lips apart with his tongue. Her eyes widened, but she didn't stop the kiss. She had wanted to capture that feeling so many times that night. It would have been a crime to pull away.

She moved from the toilet to his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. One more make out session wouldn't hurt. At least not until later. Teasing him, she pulled her mouth far enough away to nibble on his lower lip.

John groaned and pulled her closer. His hands found their way underneath her shirt. They were always so much warmer than she was. They were two bits of sunshine warming her. Even so, Wanda tensed a little when John's hands wandered farther than they had been before.

John sensed her uneasiness and pulled away abruptly. He slid her off his lap and scooted to the opposite edge of the tub. Staring between his feet, John didn't respond when Wanda called his name.

Confused, she reached for his hand. The firebug pulled away.

With her adrenaline still pumping, Wanda shouted, "What the hell was that?"

"Sorry. Sorry," John mumbled. "I'm too drunk for this. - "

Wanda crossed her arms and huffed. "You weren't slobbering that badly."

"No, that's not what I mean. If I didn't stop then, I don't know that I could."

It took a second for Wanda to realize what he was saying. She smiled. Pietro was wrong. John wanted her, but respected her. John didn't want to bang her and leave. She wasn't a rebound. She was special. _Maybe not as special as _- Wanda stopped her thought. No, she was better than the ex.

Then it occurred to her. Maybe there was a way to make him stay. If he didn't jump into the sack with the girls he liked, then maybe he and the wench hadn't. Maybe if she showed him how much she cared about him, that she wanted to share more with him than his ex, he'd think it was worth it to stay. If she gave him everything . . .

Wanda dropped the hand towel around her injured hand. She slid over to his side of the tub and reached up to stroke his cheek, except her nervousness got the better of her, and she settled on playing with the collar of his shirt. "Who said you had to?"

John finally looked at her. "Huh?"

Embarrassed, she looked down at her chipping fingernail polish. She took a deep breath. "We don't have to stop. Not if you promise you'll stay with me."

His free hand tilted her chin up. "I'm not going any where." He grinned. "You're blocking my only exit."

Their faces inched closer. "Promise me you won't abandon me," she whispered.

"I'll stay."

"Promise me."

"I promise." John barely got the line out before Wanda covered his mouth with hers.

* * *

Totally engrossed in each other, neither noticed Lance standing in the doorway, watching them kiss in the broken mirror. He turned and left, as silent as he came in. 

He waited in his room for John to come back so he could yell at him. Two hour-long infomercials later, Lance turned out the light. He was eternally grateful the room was still soundproof.

* * *

(1) Aussie for a damp firecracker or a party pooper.  
(2) Allusion to the secret word on _PeeWee's Playhouse_, which I hated but my brother liked.  
(3) See Nine to Five: Chapter 13 - Something Like Rex Manning Day. 

**Next Up**: The morning after. . .

**A/N:** My computer is slowly dying. This may cause a delay in updating. I don't know yet.


	25. I Can't Stop It

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-five: I Can't Stop It**

It wasn't sunlight piercing through the window or pleasant birdsongs that woke him up. It wasn't even an over-protective egomaniac. It was the realization that he was choking. Propping himself on his elbows, John coughed up a mouthful of black hair. As he pulled a loose hair from his mouth, he wondered about its origin until something beside him groaned.

Wanda reached out and grabbed the hotel alarm clock. Throwing it back on the nightstand, she mumbled, "Too early." She drew the covers from John and encased herself.

Now St. John was fully awake. Hazy memories of the previous night started to return to him. Despite a growing headache, he smiled and laid down on his side, one arm propping up his head. With his free hand, he slowly peeled the comforter down and blew in her ear.

"Knock it off," she mumbled and threw a wild hex bolt. It hit the lamp behind John's head and turned the shade inside out.

Unfazed, he tapped her shoulder. "Knock what off?"

"If you keep this up, I'll start with your hand."

"No, you're doing it all wrong. The first thing I loose is my feet below the ankles, _then_ my hands at the wrists (1)."

Wanda buried her head further into the pillow. "Whatever you want, just let me sleep."

St. John rolled over on his back. He glanced at the wrecked lamp shade, the wrinkled white sheet covering him, then at Wanda. He yanked the comforter from his girlfriend, rolling her along with it.

"Let me sleep. This is your last warning." She yawned and made a pillow of his chest.

Her breath tickled across his chest, but John didn't laugh. He lightly brushed a lock of Wanda's hair that was dangerously close to his mouth. A few more strands were out of place, so he combed them down as well.

"That's nice," Wanda mumbled.

"What did you say? Lice? No. Mice? No. Ladies and gents, I think it was 'nice'!" John teased.

"Shut up, you blabbering idiot," she muttered.

The Aussie did not heed her warning. A hex bolt hit him in the jaw, silencing him.

With nothing else to do, John continued to stroke Wanda's hair. It wasn't long before her breathing evened out, and John could finally move his mouth again. He considered waking her up to have someone to talk to, but she looked too peaceful.

John tried sleeping, counting sheep, and making his tongue touch his nose. He spied the hotel matches on the nightstand next to the broken lamp. Stretching his arm to the limit, he managed to grab the pack. John smiled when his nose was filled with the familiar smell of burnt potassium. He let the fire grow and tossed the ball around the room.

For the first time in a month, everything felt right. Life was good. He had Wanda and fire and that was all he needed. A smoke would have been a nice addition to the moment, but he could pretend he was Cary Grant in bed with his feisty, love-hate girl without a cigarette. Although usually Cary Grant was sharing quick, witty lines with his girl instead of staring at the ceiling.

"I'll make a fire movie," John exclaimed in the silent room. He covered his mouth with his hand and looked down. Wanda was fast asleep. He sighed and removed his hand.

His fire had gone out when he covered his mouth, so he lit another match. He twisted and split his new friend around until he picked a movie to act out with fire creatures.

Wanda shifted. John held his breath for a second, hoping she was waking up, but no such luck. He sighed and focused his attention back on his fire movie. That's when the idea hit him. What better story to animate than his and Wanda's? He went back to the very beginning: He was duct taped to the ceiling, and she was seeking only revenge.

When he got to the night Magneto returned, he stopped smiling. The characters were paused, waiting for their director to continue with the scene. John waved his hand and extinguished his actors. As long ago as that happened, John hadn't put it behind him. How could he when days later, Magneto took it all away? Worst yet, Magneto manipulated him to unknowingly help.

St. John's eyes widened. What if it happened again? When they get back to Bayville, what would stop Magneto from erasing Wanda's memories? Could John stop it this time? And if he did, would he even survive? Would she? A lump formed in his throat. _What if I can't stop it?_

John slid out from under Wanda and sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

He couldn't live through the pain of losing Wanda again, not now. He barely survived the first time. If it wasn't for Remy and BBC America, he would have completely lost it. Some would argue that he had. If Magneto was a reasonable man, John might have begged him to do the same mindwiping to him. At least that way he wouldn't have to deal with the loss.

Whoever said, "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," was a masochistic whore (2). It is the worse to lose, because the pain is always there. Every time John tried to remember the "good times", he was tortured with the thought that he was the only one who knew. Since Wanda didn't remember those times, it was like they didn't happen. There was no verification that, yes, at that point in their lives they were happy together. It might as well have been a dream. At least if were a dream he could've brought up Rover the Rex to eat Magneto while he was on vacation. Maybe the beaver, Abe, and the S.C.U.B.A. diver man would get in on it, too (3).

Something soft whipped his back. It exploded into hundreds of little feathers upon contact. "Too early," Wanda scolded. She pulled the blankets tighter around herself.

John grabbed a feather mid-fall. "Were these feather pillows last night?"

With her eyes closed, the witch grinned. "Feather pillows are more fun."

Normally John would have agreed and laughed, but all that came out was a snort. He stood up and rummaged around the room for his clothes.

"Come back to bed," Wanda whined and rolled over.

John glanced at her as she patted the mattress. Shaking his head, he pulled up his pants. "Go back to sleep, luv." The Aussie hurried over and kissed her forehead. As he pulled his face away, he let his hand linger on her cheek. When she opened her bright blue eyes, John couldn't resist kissing her.

Wanda tried to maneuver him back into bed, but John stayed standing. He pulled away and let out a deep sigh, touching his forehead to hers. "Get some beauty sleep," he said, then forced a grin. "You really need it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Get bent," she hexed him against the wall. A print of a trite meadow fell down on his head.

Rubbing his noggin, John stood up and grabbed his shirt. "Too early for jokes, I see."

"Only bad ones," she mumbled and closed her eyes. When the dead bolt on the adjoining door slipped, Wanda's eyes shot open. "How long you going to be?"

She didn't ask what he was doing or where he was going; the questions he was prepared for. She asked how long it was before he would be back in her arms. He leaned on the door handle, thinking. After plastering a fake smile on his face, he turned and replied, "One smoke."

"One smoking building or one cigarette?"

He shrugged. "Whichever comes first."

Suspecting nothing about his dodgy answers, she turned over. "Get me some coffee while you're up, will you?"

John nodded and closed the doors behind him.

* * *

The stench of cigarette smoke hit Lance first when he opened the door to his room. The second thing was the room service binder. Lance dropped the two bags in his arms. They splattered on the floor, and fruity filling seeped into the paper. 

John took a drag on his dwindling cigarette. "Paybacks a bitch, eh?"

Lance grumbled and picked the bags up off the floor. "This is a non-smoking room."

"I bet it was a non-ripping-off-the-bathroom-door room too."

He set the bags of doughnuts and breakfast foods on the table and crossed his arms. "You owe me, fire-freak."

"Is this about leaving you to clean up after Fred and Todd by yourself? 'Cause I plead a fifth."

"No, but you owe me for that too. I'm talking about taking care of Pietro."

John perked up. "Do you need help moving the body? I know we're not that good of friends, but you can trust me to help me take care of Norma's rotting corpse."

"He's not dead. He's down in the other set of rooms. He wasn't going to stop until he got into the room last night. I had to tell him you and Wanda left hours ago, and I hadn't seen you."

John squinted at him. "Why'd you do that?"

Lance shrugged. "I figured neither of you would like it if Pietro got in."

The pyromaniac faced the blank TV and took one last drag. "Wanda hexed it. No worries there."

"And if he stalked the room until you came out?"

John shrugged and flicked his cigarette in to a glass. Standing up, he lifted his backpack containing his flamethrowers and flung his duffle bag over his shoulder. "Might have left a few durries earlier."

"Where are you going? The shuttle for the train doesn't leave until this afternoon."

"I'm not taking the train." John reached over and picked up a piece of the broken bathroom door. He had burned the words "Cocoa-Mo" in it.

"Hold up. You and Wanda are hitchhiking to an island you can't even spell?"

The Aussie shook his head. "Just me." John brushed past Lance to the door.

Lance turned and shoved him into the wall. "You asshole! Does she even know?" Lance looked him up and down. "No, she doesn't. If she did, you'd have more wounds."

John's face turned red. "It's none of your business!"

Lance shook his head. "I should have let Pietro in." John tried to leave again, but Lance rammed his shoulder into the wall. "You can't leave her! Not like this."

His eyes narrowed. "You gonna stop me, Rocky?"

Lance pushed him against the wall again. "You got the girl! You got what you wanted. Now you're leaving? You are one fu - "

John dropped his duffel bag and grabbed the sides of his head. "I can't do it again!"

Lance took one step backward. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Gesturing wildly, John said, "What do you think is going to happen if me and Wanda get off that train, arm-in-arm?"

"Pigs fly?"

"No! Her crazy dad's going to screw her all up again! And I can't live through it a second time. I can't handle being forgotten twice."

Lance shook his head. "You don't know that."

"Oh, really? You've dealt with Magneto long enough to know what he's like."

"So, you're giving up instead? To save yourself, you're going to royally fuck her up more than her father ever could!"

John swung his bag back on his shoulder. "But this way 'we'll always have Paris (4)'." He made it all the way to the doorway.

"Wanda's not going to have very fond memories of 'Paris'," Lance called after him.

He looked over her shoulder. "But at least she'll have them."

"Selfish asshole," he grumbled. Lance went to slam the door behind him, but John's arm stopped him.

John worked himself back into the room. "I'm the selfish one? I'm letting her go so she doesn't get her brains scrambled again, and I'm the selfish one?"

He shook his head. "Bullshit. If that's what you wanted to do, then you shouldn't have slept with her!"

"I was drunk!"

Lance snorted. "I'm sure she'll be glad to hear that you think it was a drunken mistake."

John pointed at him. "I never said it was a mistake! Don't tell her that!"

"I won't have to. She'll know when she wakes up alone."

John studied the mutant before him. "Why do you care, anyway?"

Lance hesitated a little too long. "It's Wanda. I live with her. When she's unhappy, the entire house is unhappy."

The firebug cocked his head. "No, that's not it."

Lance's face grew red. "What? Are you psychic now?"

"Yes, and you have a thing for her."

"I do not!"

John nodded. "You do."

Frustrated at the turn of the conversation, Lance blurted, "You promised her you wouldn't leave her, and that's exactly what you're doing!"

John's voice was low and threatening. "How'd you know about that?"

Lance didn't answer, but it didn't matter. John was able to put the pieces together. "You were there. You bloody peeping Tom. Well, Tom, thanks for the reminder. I'll be going now. I know you'll take good care of her." John slammed the door to their room.

After a few stunned seconds, Lance opened the door and cussed like a sailor down the hallway.

* * *

The clock alarm in her room went off. Wanda's head popped up from the blankets and pillows. She groaned and knocked it off the nightstand with a hex bolt. The stubborn alarm continued to beep. Pulling a pillow over her head, Wanda tried to ignore it, but the alarm got progressively louder. Throwing the covers off, Wanda crawled, half-conscious to the side of the bed. She leaned over the edge, but the clock was out of arm's reach. Wanda repositioned herself to extend her reach. 

Wanda fell headfirst off the bed. "Ooph. Damn alarm clock." She yanked the clock from the wall and threw it.

The witch rubbed her eyes and surveyed the room. "John?" she called. Wanda grabbed her shirt off the floor and slipped it on. On the way to the bathroom, Wanda picked up more of her clothes. She pushed open the door to the bathroom and called, "Hey, moron." No one called back.

Feeling very exposed, Wanda finished dressing quickly. There was an ache creeping into her stomach. The kind that was trying to warn you that something was deeply wrong.

Wanda rushed into John and Lance's room calling John's name. The only other person in the room was Lance, who was mindlessly flipping through the channels.

With a fixed scowl on his face, Lance said, "I went down early to the hotel breakfast and brought some stuff back. It's on the table if you want any."

Wanda glanced at the bags, then back at Lance. "Where's John?"

He ground his teeth for a few seconds before shrugging. His eyes never left the television.

With a wave of a glowing hand, Wanda animated the nightstand to attack Lance. "What did you do with him!"

His eyes shot daggers at Wanda. "_I_ didn't do anything. He left all on his own."

The witch returned the nightstand to its proper place and studied Lance out of the corner of her eye. "What do you mean 'he left'? Where'd he go?"

"I don't know. Away."

Anger swelled in the witch. The lights flickered, random pieces of furniture elevated, and one of the paintings on the wall flew at Lance's head. "LIAR!"

The rock tumbler dove between the bed and the wall. His head peeked up after the painting shattered against the wall. "Why would I lie?"

Wanda's mind went wild. "You're covering for my brother! Pietro never liked us being together, and he did something to him!"

"I wouldn't cover for Pietro! Not to you!"

The bed providing Lance shelter flipped over. "Where's John?" she screamed once more.

Lance slid up the wall and stood in the corner. "He took off and went hitchhiking. Look around. Do you see his stuff anywhere?"

"Pietro must have it!"

Lance repeated himself as calming as possible. "John left on his own. I tried to stop him, but he left anyway."

Shaking her head violently, Wanda drew a sliver of the bathroom door to Lance's neck. She approached him, stopping inches from his face. "Liar," she whispered. "He wouldn't leave. He promised."

Lance returned her stare. "Then he must be the liar, 'cause he's gone."

Everything but the shard of door dropped. With her mouth drawn tight, the witch glowered at Lance, unblinking. He never flinched. When she accepted that Lance was telling the truth, her lower lip began to quiver. Wanda broke contact and took a good look at her dirty socks. She balled her fists. "Leave."

Lance took a step toward her. He moved to put his hand on her shoulder but dropped it instead. "I'm still here, Wanda."

Wanda continued to stare at her feet. "LEAVE!"

Lance hesitated then sighed. He snatched his bag and breakfast. In the doorway, Lance pivoted and took one step back in the room. "My toothbrush." He halted when he saw Wanda's expression; she growled and finally looked at him out of the corner of her eye. On second thought, Lance abandoned his toothbrush.

As soon as the door slammed, Wanda called upon all the power within herself. She _had_ to get back to the Nexus. She had to fix her world that was crumbling yet again. The witch closed her eyes and released her energy. When she opened them, she did not see the dark space with the beacons of light she expected; she was still in the hotel room. She tried again, but without success.

"AGATHA!" Wanda waited a minute for her mentor to arrive. No one came. She called again with the same results. Remembering her teachings, Wanda tried creating a scrying globe with a spell. She thought she had done everything right, but the old hag's face never appeared in the sphere. Finally, she fell to her knees and pleaded. "I need you! Please, Agatha! Show me how to get to the Nexus. I have to fix things!"

Every time Wanda built up enough energy, she expended it trying to get to the Nexus. While she was resting, she'd call for Agatha. Soon the old hag's name turned into someone else's. "Come back. . . Please come back. . I need you, John. . . " Wanda tried once more to summon herself to that strange place outside of the world but failed. She lowered her body to the floor, and the carpet soaked up her tears. "Come back. . . You promised."

The apprentice witch did not know how many minutes passes as she laid on the hotel room floor, but a soft knock on the door awoke her. She lifted her head from the floor and instantly regretted it. A deep pain pulsed in her head and spread through her body. The knock came again. She groaned and crawled over to open the door. Wanda shielded her eyes to the bright hallway, but managed to make out a man-shaped shadow. Her heart picked up, until she realized it wasn't whom she hoped. "What do you want?" she snapped.

"Hotel shuttle's leaving soon. You ready?" Lance asked. He stepped into the room and was amazed at its condition. The bathroom door was intact and in place; there was only one bed and it was made perfectly; all the hotel amenities, some that he didn't remember ever being there, were neatly laid out around the room. "What happened here?"

Wanda didn't answer. Little did she know that her tantrum would make the room a beacon of paranormal phenomenon for many years to come. In the future, there would be many theories developed about what went on in room ten that day, but none would be close to the truth (5).

Using the chair, Wanda pulled herself from the floor. She massaged her forehead with her hand. "Is there any food left?"

Lance circled the room, amazed at its condition. "Freddy got to it."

"Figures."

"I can get you something from vending machine, if you want."

"No." She removed her hand and stood up straight. "I'm not that hungry," she lied. "I have to get my stuff."

Lance handed her boots to her. "Pietro's already got it. Your hex on the other room wore off."

"My medicine - "

"He grabbed that too."

Wanda nodded. Lance waited while she tied her boots. The witch stood up and fell into step beside Lance as they walked toward the hotel lobby.

She'd failed. She wasn't powerful. She wasn't important. She wasn't special. She couldn't even convince one hormonal boy to stay with her.

"Sorry," Lance blurted, looking at his shoes.

"I said I wasn't hungry."

"No." Lance paused. "I mean, I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

Wanda was not going to let John's abandonment get to her. She was stronger than that. If she didn't exist for him, that he wouldn't exist for her. "Who? Freddy? I don't think a nuclear explosion could stand between him and anything remotely edible. Remember the vanilla lotion incident?"

Lance was confused. "No, John. I'm sorry I couldn't stop John. I know how much you - "

"Oh, him." While Lance abruptly stopped walking, Wanda continued to rant and walk. "Don't be sorry. I'm not. He's a pain, and he dragged the team down by constantly arguing with Pietro. I'm glad he's . . ."

The witch finally noticed Lance was no longer at her side. She followed his unblinking stare out the glass lobby doors. A familiar face sat on the hood of the hotel shuttle smoking a cigarette. She gasped, but froze. She didn't know what to do. Should she run and jump him or beat him to near death?

Both sets of doors flew open, and Wanda stomped through them. Her jaw was set and didn't waver when John smiled at her. He held a styrofoam cup out for her, but she didn't take it. Taking a firm grip on the collar of his shirt, she made the Aussie eat asphalt. Wanda rolled his groaning body over with her foot and pressed her combat book into his chest.

"It was two creams, not three, wasn't it?"

"You left," she spat.

John glared at Lance exiting the hotel. "Not for long."

She worked her boot further into his chest. "You promised you wouldn't leave."

"I came back!"

Wanda's hands began to glow. "Not good enough."

John was not intimidated. "Then you better turn around and fix your affections on someone else!"

Her attention remained on the Aussie beneath her boot. When he was there, no one else existed in her world. It was absurd to believe that she could care about anyone else like she cared for St. John. Despite what she had said, his return did make her heart swell. Maybe she was enough. Her eyes softened, but she kept her foot on his chest. "Why'd you come back?"

"I made a promise. Didn't you want me to come back?"

She felt John hold his breath, waiting for her answer. "Maybe."

John shook his head. "There's no _maybes_ anymore. We came too far to have _maybes_. So what is it?"

The witch scrutinized him. He had hurt her when he had left, even if it was for only a little while. Would he do it again? Could she take that chance? She was fully invested in their relationship, but did he feel the same? Or was he only hanging on to her out of obligation? That drunken promise she forced him to make. Or worse, because there was something about her reminded him of the girl that came before?

Wanda tried to read the answer in his face but failed. He was holding his breath again. She wondered if he would turn blue soon. Chuckling in her head, she knew that she had forgiven him for his momentary abandonment. The only question left was whether their relationship was worth the risk of her getting hurt again.

"Yes," she answered and forced air out of his lungs.

John coughed, then grinned. "Then why am I still under your boot?"

She leaned over her leg, shifting her weight. "I thought you liked it when I took command."

"Not when I have a soda can jamming me in the back."

Wanda lifted her foot and helped him up. Once he was upright she kissed him. All her worries went away until John broke it off and pulled her behind a nearby hedge. He parted a few branches to scope out the scene.

"I don't think they saw us," he whispered.

"Who? Cops?" Instantly nervous, Wanda leaned over his shoulder and followed his gaze. "It's just Pietro and Todd." She made a move upward but was pulled back down.

John brought her inches from his fear-filled face. "They can't know we're together."

"Huh?"

"They can't know we're together," he repeated.

She raised an eyebrow. "They may both be idiots, but I think they've noticed."

"Bugger, that's right." He ruffled his hair while he thought. "Oh! I've got it: We have to pretend we had a fight. Then they'll think we've broken up, but really, we're still together, only secret."

Wanda, contemplating his scheme, blinked hard. "Just when I think I've learned how to follow your psychotic ramblings, you prove me wrong."

"What's not to understand?"

"How about the point? You want to play some sort of stupid mind game on them?"

"No, I'm completely serious - "

"Since when?"

"Had to start sometime?"

"Pick another time! You're being completely psycho. There's no reason we should be hiding behind this bush." Wanda tried to stand again without success.

"They can't know. No one can know."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do mean, 'no one'?"

"No one, no one. We've got to keep quiet. Stay below the radar. Except for Remy; he can keep a secret. Rogue's okay too. Hell, you could probably tell every X-Men. As long as word doesn't get back to Magneto, she'll be apples."

"Why? You want us to tell my father together or something?"

John began to panic. "No! Your father can't know! Not ever!"

"What's the problem? Is there something in your contract about dating the boss's daughter?"

"No. . . not yet, anyway. . . " John shifted his eyes, pondering something. "He just can't know."

This entire conversation baffled Wanda. She didn't know where he was coming from or what had worked him up into such a frenzy. Keeping their relationship a secret was the dumbest idea that ever came out of left field. She didn't want to keep it a secret. She wanted to tell the whole world and damn anyone in her way. That was how she worked. Secrets took thought and energy served much better on other things. Not to mention that neither of them were good actors; they would be found out right away.

Why didn't John want anyone to know? Was he ashamed of her? She knew she wasn't pretty like other girls, but he never seemed to care. Wanda gulped as another theory formed in her head:_Maybe he wanted to keep the options open in case Amnesia Girl woke up_. Wanda would only be a toy until the other girl remembered. But if that was the case, why was it so important her father didn't know? She sighed. There were too many possibilities, and John was not giving her any answers. "What game are you playing with me?"

He shook his head. "It's no game. It's survival."

"I'll make Magneto understand us. Beneath the bucket he's a father like any other. Don't worry."

John shook her shoulders gently. "No, he doesn't understand! He never will. Hell, I don't understand us half the time." He brushed a stray hair behind Wanda's ear and smiled. "It'll be better for everyone if we keep this hush-hush. The more people that know, the more dangerous it'll be for us."

"For us or for you?"

"Both."

Wanda considered it for a second, but shook her head. "I'm not playing this game, John. I don't see what's the problem with the entire world knowing we're together." She looked out at the rest of the Brotherhood waiting for them in the parking lot. "Unless," she whispered, "you're ashamed of me."

"No! Where'd you get an idea like that? That's crazy, luv. If things were different, I'd burn it on every tree we passed, but they aren't. No one can know."

Her eyes burned through his head. If he was telling the truth, she'd only had one theory left. "'If things were different'? What things?" She successfully stood up this time. "If your ex didn't have amnesia, you mean! You're still holding onto the chance that she might remember you!"

"No!" John said, but she could tell he was lying.

Wanda narrowed her eyes. "I'm sick of your bullshit." The witch hexed him out of the bushes and into the side of the shuttle van. She towered over him as he rolled on the ground. Pietro's words spoke in her head (6): "You're a rebound. He likes you because you remind him of his ex. Once he's figured out that you aren't the same person, he'll leave, you'll be hurt, and I'll have to say I told you so." Her brother's words on the train sounded completely ridiculous at the time. Little did she know that he was right: John never truly cared. _I can't believe I changed the course of the world for him._

"I'm not her! And I'll never be enough for you." She saw the shocked faces of the other boys and chuckled. "Looks like we don't have to pretend to fight."

John got to his knees and opened his mouth, but Wanda hexed him. "Don't talk to me, don't look at me, and don't breathe around me, and we'll coexist until New York." She kicked John down, stepped over his body, and opened the passenger side door. After throwing Todd from the van, she sat down and resisted the urge to cry.

* * *

John had become a leper, and he had no clue as to why. He sat in the front of a virtually empty train car while the Brotherhood congregated in the back. How had his and Wanda's conversation had gotten out of hand? His plan sounded perfect while he stood out in the sun on the side of the road. He even found a banana scone to go with Wanda's coffee. He had eaten it before she came out, but that wasn't his fault. The squirrel was eyeing him funny. That scone was either going to be John's food or squirrel food. 

He sighed. Maybe it was for the better. His promise was null and void now: He could leave this circus without any regret or what ifs running thought his head. John and Wanda didn't work, no matter how much he wished it wasn't true.

John's bag was dumped out of the seat next to him and replaced with a white-haired speed demon. "Thought I'd pop in and say a few words. I don't know what happened between you and Wanda, but it gives me warm tingles inside."

The Aussie bent over collected his bag. Pulling out his yellow legal pad, he said, "I'm not going out with you, Norma. Do the world a favor and go play with a stingray (7)."

The uninvited guest feigned hurt. "I came up here to thank you for dropping this whole Wanda memory thing, and you go and insult me! No wonder she dumped you."

Pietro's condensing tone made John twitch. "What makes you think I dropped it?" he said.

"Please, you can't possibly think that you can recover from this. If there's one thing Wanda can do, it's hold a grudge. Believe me, I know."

John smirked and glanced at the speed demon. "If there's one thing I learned from hanging out with your sister is that anything's possible."

"You're pathetic." Pietro's laugh had a twinge of nervousness to it. "What was your plan to win her back? It has to be something to win her back in what, two days before you leave? Wait, let me guess. . .it involved bananas."

In the mood for more mind games, John asked, "Who said I was leaving?"

That sobered the speed demon. "Your contract is up. You had eight going away parties last week."

"My contract's not up for three more months. Magneto said he'd consider renegotiating it after this mission, but I'm thinking I might tell him to forget it. The past week I've had a chance to reevaluate my position. The benefits suck, but I get room and board and vegemite. Not to mention all the mutant atrocities we stop. We're heroes. And what other job will pay me to light stuff on fire?"

Pietro's mouth grew thin and tight. "You are a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe. You need to leave. There's no reason for you to stay."

John remained relaxed. "That's between me and me boss."

Grabbing the Aussie's shirt, Pietro whispered harshly. "I'll tell him. I'll tell him everything that went on and how you and Remy are trying to get Wanda's memories back because you're hand is getting tired. He'll encase you in a monument to display in his office so that people will think twice about crossing him."

Unfazed, John laughed. "And how do you think Wanda would react to that? It'll prove that I was right all along."

His eyes narrowed. "You'd be a martyr just to spite me?"

John shrugged. "I'd rather be a martyr than leave Wanda to be eaten by pythons." He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Yep. Sooner or later Maggie will show her his true colors. I plan to be around to see it."

Pietro let go of John's shirt but could not hide his desperation. "What do you want? Money? I'll get some for you. What do I have to do to get you to leave my sister alone?"

The firebug shook his head and grinned. "I can't think of one thing."

Pietro shrugged, trying to play down his freak out. "Don't expect me to come to your funeral. I know one guest might be nice, seem less pathetic, but I have plans to watch Freddy down an entire live chicken that day." He stood up and a half-second later was long gone.

John smiled at winning the battle. Then he realized he said he was sticking around that hellhole until the end. More torture of working for a manipulative ass and watching the girl of his dreams hate him to the core. He dropped his unsmiling face into his hand. "Mouth! What did you go and do now?"

* * *

(1) In _The Princess Bride_, Westley explains that he will torture Prince Humperdinck by first cutting off his feet, then hands, nose, tongue, and eyes.  
(2) It was Alfred Lord Tennyson, English Victorian poet, and, from what I've read, is very much not a whore.  
(3) In the TV Rozerem commercials, an insomniac is visited by common characters of his dreams: Abraham Lincoln, an old-time S.C.U.B.A. diver, and a beaver (whom I argued forever was really a groundhog and everything in his dreams had to deal with February. Later I admitted defeat).  
(4) One of the famous lines from _Casablanca_. Despite it making the top three of AFI's greatest movies, I found it one of the worse I've ever not slept through. Definitely NOT a required viewing.  
(5) Allusion to the sci-fi mini-series _Lost Room_. Recommended viewing, but not required.  
(6) See November Rain: Chapter 16 - It's Not an Act.  
(7) Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, died as a result of a freak accident with a stingray.

* * *

**A/N**: I hope you enjoyed the Jonda, 'cause we won't see them again until the epilogue. Oh, and my new Apple computer is across the state getting shiny new software from my brother, so I should be keeping up with my regular severely delayed updates.  
**Next up:** We go back in time to see how Remy's Saturday night went.  



	26. Trouble Follows You

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-six: Trouble Follows You**

"Your face is not a pleasant one, Cajun," came a voice in the dark, rank tunnels beneath the city.

He turned to face the approaching mutant, thankful that she finally decided to emerge from the shadows. Remy and Jimmy had been wandering the sewers for at least an hour before Remy heard a person following them. He chose to remain on guard, but wait for the scout to make the first move. It wasn't long after that Remy noticed others gathering, and soon after their leader approached them.

The Cajun smirked, playing it cool. "I know. I let myself go since I got a fille."

The woman with the eye-patch did not laugh. "I hope you said goodbye to her, because you won't be seeing her again." She nodded to her strike team to attack.

A thin purple mutant stepped out from behind Remy. He wasn't going to be in any pageants, but Jimmy was looking healthier than he was when Gambit and the Scarlet Witch rescued him. "Hello, Callisto," he said. "I didn't know you went into piracy. Do you get a lot of ships down here?"

Callisto raised her hand to halt the attack. "Jimmy?"

"Well, I'm certainly not Timmy."

Although Callisto prided herself on the control of her emotions, she couldn't hold back a small smile. "It is good to see you. How are the others?" Jimmy's hesitation told Callisto the answer. "They are always welcome here with us, but they must understand that they must earn their keep to stay under my protection."

Jimmy nodded. "Everyone knows and agrees. You had the right idea. There is no new life for us anymore." Jimmy explained the situation to the stoic Callisto.

Remy inched his way back into a dark corner. Leaning on the concrete wall, he shuffled his cards. It was better if he stayed as far away from the heart of the situation as possible. Jimmy assured the Morlocks that Remy was no longer working for Essex, but that didn't make them trust him. He didn't want their trust, either. To have their trust would mean that they would rely on Remy. If they relied on Remy, he would fail them. Again.

Instead of paying attention to the conversation, Remy surveyed the strike force Callisto brought with her. There were five total including Callisto; two of them he recognized and could easily take out. The other two he was unsure of and quickly marked the little girl with the big hands as his greatest threat. One so young falling in with Callisto's strike force must be someone to be reckoned with. Plus, she had the most innocent face. If there was one thing he learned from watching all those old horror movies with John was that it was always the innocent looking kid that surprised you. His experience with Scrambler only supported the theory.

The murmur of the other conversation grew quiet. The others were retreating down another pipe. He moved to follow, but Callisto blocked him. "You may leave, Cajun. You are no longer needed. We can take it from here."

Remy nodded, but argued, "I gotta see dat de others make it here safely. Somethin' goes wrong, and I gotta make it back to my team."

"I don't care about your team, only the safety of my Morlocks. You cannot come any further."

He pointed to the thin man. "I made a deal wit' Jimmy and de others."

Her eye narrowed. "I will not compromise."

"I wouldn't be goin' back just for my team. I'd be goin' back for t'em too. Your future Morlocks."

They glared at each other. Callisto ground her teeth. "You'll be blindfolded." She reached down and ripped off a scrap of her shirt. Callisto motioned for him to turn around so she could tie on the cloth.

Remy turned his back to her and chuckled. "You gonna hand me a bat and spin me around too?" He stopped chuckling when a blunt object hit him on the back of his head. The world went dark.

* * *

Remy awoke in a dry and bright room. There was a large open area filled with benches and an old ticket desk. In one area was an abandoned track of some sort. The track ran off in a black tunnel in either direction. Remains of a few stairways were covered in rubble in two corners of the room. Remy couldn't tell, but he wouldn't have been surprised if they were sealed off after Callisto moved in.

The Morlocks, no more than twenty total, were moving benches and debris from the center of the room. There were a few more that Remy recognized, but over half were new faces. None of them had noticed that Remy was conscious. He used the spare time to survey the team, their powers, and their cohesiveness. Few of them were particularly powerful. Callisto had put the most powerful mutants on her strike team, leaving those with merely physical mutations or non-offensive powers virtually undefended at their home here. A mistake a more experienced leader wouldn't make.

Remy concluded that this was where the Morlocks spent most of their time. Decorated lockers, sectioned out personal areas, ratty chinese screens sectioning off the room, several days worth of food trash, and a pile of bedding thrown off the benches in into a corner were obvious signs of residency. A few people walked in from a hole in one of the walls with more bedding and food in their arms. At least the band knew they would have to prepare for their new additions.

"He's playin' 'possum!" one of the fresh faces yelled.

Compromised, Remy rolled over and yawned. As Callisto marched over, he said, "I'll never play pinata wit' - "

Callisto kicked him in the side. "Thank Jimmy for your life. I was going to drown you."

The swamp rat rolled away from her and sprung up, prepared to attack and take out a good number of Morlocks if he had to. His eyes narrowed. "T'anks for de hospitality."

She raised and eyebrow and made a point to look Remy straight in eye. "You think I'd bring you to our home? This is merely a staging area for our projects. It will be abandoned after tonight."

"Of course," he said, but he knew she was lying. This was probably the only area she had access to that could hold all of the incoming mutants. Remy was sure it wasn't her first choice and didn't doubt that Callisto wanted to roll his unconscious body into the turbid water. Remy took down some of his defenses, but remained alert. He straightened up and looked around.

Callisto poked the Cajun in the chest. "Stay out of the way." She nodded over her shoulder but didn't look. "Spyke, watch him."

Remy was surprised when a bone-plated black teenager stepped forward. Rogue was not kidding when she described all of the changes the former X-Man went through (1).

"My pleasure," said Spyke. He crossed his arms and backed Remy into an easily visible area. Four bone spikes shot out, surrounding him. "Don't cross the lines, and we won't have a problem."

Remy smirked. "Never, mon ami." He sat down and leaned against the stone wall. It wasn't long before Remy grew bored with watching the Morlocks clean up. He turned to his guard. "Your Aunt's been worried sick 'bout you."

Spyke snorted. "What do you know 'bout my Aunt?"

He shrugged. "Storm. Real name: Ororo Monroe. Powers: Weather manipulation. Height: 5' 11". Weight: 137 lbs. Age: mid-thirties, course she looks older now wit' all de stress lately. Joined Xavier after she graduated college to start a school for mutants. She's claustrophobic and likes dark, exotic men who enjoy taking - "

Finally, Spyke turned to him with bone daggers in his hands. "Shut up before I make you."

Remy raised his hands defensively. "You asked, homme. I don' know 'bout you, but I'm sick of all dis rain. You should give her a call. Maybe she'll stop bein' so moody."

"Stats and figures don't mean anything. You don't know anything about me or my family," he spat.

Remy shrugged. "Fair enough. Still appreciate dat call, t'ough. I'm startin' to get pruney."

Spyke pounced on him, but Remy easily through him aside.

"What's going on here!?" yelled Callisto.

Remy, still sitting comfortably on the floor, shrugged. "I t'ink de boy has some unresolved family issues."

"Cajun, you are here for one reason: to be sent to your death if your friends do not pull through with getting those mutants to safety. Do not make your death inevitable by provoking my Morlocks."

Remy smiled innocently. "Sure t'ing, Callisto."

Callisto glared, knowing her threat had no real meaning to Remy. "What time should we be expecting them again?" she asked.

He pulled out his cell phone. "Another half-hour or so."

"Torpid," she called. The little girl from the strike force approached hesitantly. "The Cajun looks comfortable sitting there. Make sure he stays there for a while."

The sweet girl extended her hand and touched him. Remy could not even blink for the next forty-five minutes. His eyes got dry and itchy. At least he was right about the girl.

The girl slipped on some gloves and ran back to the younger Morlocks. She hummed and cleaned up what looked like her living area: Crayon drawings of her new family hung on the wall, and a small bookshelf held several paperback books and a few dolls. She didn't seem as jaded as the other Morlocks, perhaps because she had been adopted by those who didn't shun her for being a mutant.

While he sat he wondered if "Torpid" could control her powers or if she was like Rogue, forced to live life behind a veil because she'd paralyze anyone she touched. Maybe he should introduce the two. They could be kindred spirits. Rogue could help her cope with her powers, and maybe this little girl could convince Rogue that there was more to love than touch.

His mind wandered to Rogue's mysterious behavior. Why was she lying to Kitty? Why couldn't she tell him or Wanda the story? It must be something the X-Men wouldn't approve of, or she would have given Kitty the same amount of information she had given Wanda. Except Kitty couldn't keep her mouth shut and wouldn't stop short of a getting every single detail of any juicy story she was told. Hell, he'd lie to Kitty too, if it'd prevent a bombardment of questions.

Maybe there was a clue in Rogue's conversation with Wanda. On the train, Wanda's uncomfortable sideways glance at John told him that the Aussie was the topic of their conversation. Somehow the conversation turned to him and Rogue, which Rogue was unusually confident in. Where did that confidence come from? Did Johnny somehow leak some information to her? Remy racked his brain, but he could not think of one truthful thing John knew that would boost Rogue's confidence. There were many lies that might do the trick, but Johnny was never a good liar. Besides, this was something that she couldn't tell Wanda now, but promised to tell her later. Could it deal with Wanda's brainwashing?

If he could, Remy would have shook his head. It wasn't related to the brainwashing; it was about him and Rogue; not John and Wanda. Also, there wasn't any reason Rogue couldn't discuss the brainwashing with Remy or Kitty.

"Where's your team, Cajun?" Callisto barked.

Remy focused outward, but was still unable to move. The Morlocks were standing around, waiting for the new arrivals. Remy made some guttural noises in response.

Callisto returned a cracked pocket watch to her jacket. "We should send him back."

Jimmy shook his head. "Not yet. Give them some more time. There was a lot of us, maybe it is taking some time to get them away from the power dampeners."

She glared and shoved her finger in his face. "You had better be right. If this is a double-cross then it'll be on your head."

As she stomped away, Jimmy called, "I met one of them, the red girl. She wouldn't leave us behind."

"And just_ how_ do you know that? Did she have a halo over her head?"

Remy snorted, and Jimmy outright laughed. "No, but she almost blew our cover to get the rest of us when they were sneaking me out."

Callisto raised an eyebrow and looked at Remy. "So they're incompetent and don't follow orders? What a great team to send to rescue over a hundred sick and dying mutants."

The Cajun growled. He was beginning to get feeling back in his face. He blinked once, and grumbled something inaudible.

"Are you defending your team or insulting my leadership?"

He narrowed his eyes and grumbled more animatedly.

"My leadership skills? Really?" She clicked her tongue. "I've pulled these people from the depths of despair and given them a purpose. I've protected them from the persecution, experimentation, and execution by the topsiders. What did you do? Run away and manage to get roped back into working for the Devil. The first time your ignorance was your innocence. The second time . . ." She knelt in front of him and scrutinized him. "What was the price of your soul, Gambit?"

Remy still lacked the motor skills to speak, but his eyes glowed. He managed to move a finger to touch Callisto's boot. A golden glow spread from the toe, up her leg. Callisto's glaze did not let up.

Jimmy jerked and stumbled to the center of the room. "They're coming!"

Remy uncharged Callisto's boot. Not even a second passed, Jimmy was surrounded by the Morlocks, eager to see what was happening. From Remy's position frozen sitting on the floor, every view was blocked. Another few seconds passed, and a blinding light and a thunder clap ruined everyone else's view too.

When Remy's eyes adjusted, the room was packed with sickly mutants. Some were coughing and hacking; others holding themselves, unsure of their new surroundings. A large part opened in the crowd. Callisto and Spyke knelt next to a form on the floor. Remy's stomach lurched. By this time he had slight mobility and managed to pull himself through the part.

On the floor laid the twins, Jimmy and Timmy, very much dead. Lesions stained Timmy's arms and blood from his nose and mouth stood out against his pale face. His arms were stretched out, one hand resting next to his brother's dead but seemingly healthy one.

Callisto closed their eyelids and stood slowly. She walked to the front of the mob and directed their attention away from the casualties.

While she addressed the new Morlocks, Remy's eyes were fixed on the dead twins. What had gone with his plan? Must people always die when he was trying to save them? He had these awesome powers and skills, but they were never enough. He couldn't even deliver the promise of a cup of coffee to two brothers. What had gone wrong in Florida? He desperately wanted to get back there to check up on the team. Would he find more bodies?

Remy reached out and grabbed the pant leg of the nearest mutant. "What happened back t'ere?"

A teenager with scaly skin and reptilian eyes replied, "The Company figured out Jimmy was gone, so they took Timmy away. We didn't see him again until the witch, the cat, and the fast guy came back with him on their shoulders. I'm not surprised he didn't make it back. He looked really bad. Those bastards probably tortured him to find Jimmy, but he'd never tell." The kid was no longer talking to Remy. "We'll make them pay this time. They'll never hurt us or anyone else again."

Remy knew better than to lecture this group on the hazards of vengeance. It would never stick; they've been through too much to listen. "Are de others all right? De witch, de fast guy . . . t'ere were seven o' t'em."

The guy shrugged. "I only remember the three. Oh, no, five, there was a frog guy and a BIG guy too."

That left Avalanche and Pyro unaccounted for. Remy checked the time on his phone: It was too soon to call. They still had the demolition and to try and recover some sort of alibi at the Light Parade.

The crowd was dispersing, most to the food. The Cajun glanced back at the bodies. Spyke lifted Timmy off the floor and struggled to fling him over his shoulder. Remy stood haphazardly, his legs still a little numb beneath him. He moved to grab Jimmy beneath his shoulders, but Callisto slid in first.

With the lanky corpse secured over her shoulder she turned to Remy. "You've played your part, Cajun. I'd escort you out, but I have more important duties now." She whipped around and followed Spyke down the tunnel.

Remy rubbed the back of his head, remembering the last time Callisto escorted him. He let the trespass go and called after her with sympathy and sincerity, "Let me help."

Callisto craned her neck and spat, "I think you've done enough." She faced forward and continued walking. "Go away, Cajun. Trouble follows you. I don't want any more of it brought here." Remy hung his head, sighed, and got directions out of there.

* * *

It was late and Xavier's Institute was pitch black. Most of the students were visiting their families until Sunday, so it was unusually silent as well.

Someone stumbled over an end table in the hallway. "Oomph. Oww." Baggage swung around, knocking over anything still standing, while the klutz hopped around on one foot.

Behind her, a mentor offered some useless advice. "Careful, Half-pint. Don't want to wake the rest of the house."

Rubbing her injured foot, Kitty replied, "I can't help it when the furniture, like, jumps out and attacks me." By this time her eyes had adjusted, so she straightened up and surveyed the hallway. "Wait a minute. . .did you move this end table?" She pointed to a painting a few feet away. "It was totally under that painting when I left."

Logan shook his head. "Still claiming you have a photographic memory?"(2)

She stomped her good foot. "I do! And this table was not here when I left."

He chuckled and continued down the hallway. "Whatever you say, Half-pint."

Kitty huffed before scooping up her bags and following him. "I can't believe you'd do that for a cheap laugh."

"I can't believe I took the jet out to pick you up from your parents' house in the middle of the night."

Kitty jogged up to his side. "Yes, you can. I know you too, Mr. Logan. You were so bored here, you jumped at the chance." They both smirked in the dark.

The pair walked in a comfortable silence until they reached the room Kitty and Rogue shared. "Thanks, Mr. Logan. I couldn't stand listening to my parents fight one more minute. I . . . thanks."

Logan nodded. "Anytime, kid." Suddenly, Logan's mannerisms changed. He was on high alert after catching a familiar, yet unwelcome scent coming from Rogue's room. He took one last sniff to confirm before kicking in the unlocked door. Someone jumped from Rogue's bed. Two small glowing objects appeared in his hands. "You know the rules, Stripes! Get Gumbo out of your room before he's gutted!"

Kitty walked through the wall and plopped her bags down on her bed. She smiled and waved. "Hi, Remy."

The two glowing cards fell to a relaxed position and faded. He addressed Kitty first: "Bonjour, petite." He raised his head to Logan. "Rogue's not here."

With claws outstretched, Logan said, "If she ain't here, then why are you here? Magneto send you? What did he do to her?"

Remy chuckled. "Why do you X-Men always t'ink it is always 'bout de job? Maybe 'cause dat's how you live?"

Logan slammed him against the wall, positioning one set of claws next to his face. "Three seconds, Cajun."

Remy considered playing around a little more, but there was something more pressing he needed to know. "I was supposed to meet her here. She said she had some big surprise to tell me. I fell asleep waitin'. I hope de surprise wasn't you; no offense, homme."

Wolverine dropped the Cajun. He sniffed the balcony and confirmed that the scent was a few hours old. After retracting his claws, he asked, "Where is she?"

Remy shrugged. "Don' you know? I t'ought you kept a tight ship here."

"Not tight enough; a rat got in."

"Dis rat was invited."

They continued to throw verbal barbs at each other until Kitty stepped between them. "Boys, boys. We have a bigger problem here. . ." They both stared at her blankly. She rolled her eyes and stated the obvious, "Like, how do we find Rogue?" First, she turned to Logan. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Early. Before breakfast. She said she was takin' the bus into the City to do some research for school."

Kitty shook her head. "And you believed her? Any research she would have to do for a report, she could get from the Bayville Public Library. They have access to oodles of online books and journals. Plus, this is Rogue. She'd have to be really interested in the class to travel all that way, and she's not."

Crossing his arms, Remy leaned up against the nightstand. "T'ought you had super senses, Wolvie. Couldn't even tell when someone was lyin' to your face?"

Logan's icy eyes burned. "I knew she was lyin'. I figured she was lyin' about you, and I didn't want to know as long as she was back in one piece. What happened today, Cajun?"

Remembering his night, Remy studied his shoes. "Nothin' wit' Rogue." He stared straight at Logan. "I haven't talked to her since Thursday night when we agreed to meet here. Actually, on the agenda was her lyin' 'bout seeing me when she was really doin' something else." He glanced at Kitty. "Kitty, why did Rogue skip class on Tuesday?"

She shifted her eyes and her weight. "Uh, she was studying at the library." Kitty broke under Logan's parental eye. "Okay, okay. She was skipping last period to see Remy off at the train station."

"What?! You should have said something, Half-pint." Logan turned to Remy and growled, "You! You and - "

Remy raised his hands defensively. "Put t'ose claws back, Monsieur Wolverine. She never saw me off. I left before noon."

"WHAT?!" Kitty exclaimed. "Like, how could she lie to me!?"

Remy turned his head to the girl. "Dat's what everyone's sayin'."

"This is your influence on her," Logan accused. "She didn't do this before you started coming around."

"Don't put dis on me! I've been comin' clean! She's been puttin' me under de truth microscope and den goes off and disappears, twice now, usin' me as an excuse. She won't even tell me where she's been goin'. Far as I know, she's moonlightin' as projectionist, splicin' porno movie frames into kid's movies (3)."

Always the peacemaker, Kitty stepped in. "Like, ewww. Come on now guys, let's steer away from the grossness and blaming and be productive."

Remy bent down to get in Kitty's face. "How do we do dat, petite? She didn' tell anyone what she was doin'. Not you, not me, not Wanda, not Monsieur Wolverine. . ."

Logan pushed him back. "Don't take this out on her, because Rogue's using you." Logan chuckled. "I'm a kinda proud she gave you some of your own medicine."

"I've never used her!"

"Your record says it was only a matter of time."

Instantly nervous, Remy stuttered a little. "Y-You've been checkin' up on Remy?"

Smelling the fright waft off of the Cajun, Logan eyed him suspiciously. "Tried. Seems you disappeared yourself over the last few years. Care to explain that?"

"Non."

Waving her arms around, Kitty whistled. "Boys! Refocus! Back to Rogue!" They both crossed their arms and pouted, but at least they shut up. Kitty hopped when an idea came to her. "I'll check her planner!"

"Rogue has a planner?"

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Kitty shrugged as she burrowed into Rogue's bookbag. "Everybody has to have a planner. How else would you keep track of all your assignments?"

Remy chuckled. "Rogue cares 'bout homework?"

Kitty took a few more moments of unfruitful searching before shoving the bag across the floor, spilling its contents. She stomped up and stood on her tip toes to get as far into Remy's face as possible. "If you know her so well, then where is she, swamp rat? Oh, yeah, you don't know." Kitty spun around, whipping her pony tale into Remy's face.

Remy barely reacted to the assault. His eyes were fixed on a pair of letters in a familiar logo on one of the books that fell out of Rogue's backpack. A magazine, to be more precise. His body turned cold, and his stomach sank.

Logan noticed Remy was holding his breath. "What's wrong, Gumbo?"

The Cajun blinked and exhaled. He bent down to the pile of books and papers, his hands seeming to only lightly pass over the titles. He straightened up and strolled to the balcony doors. "Everything," he whispered and turned to leave.

Before he could make his escape, Logan slammed Remy into the balcony railing. "What did you take? Where is she?"

Logan reached into Remy's coat and pulled out the _MZ_ magazine. "What's this?"

"My worst nightmare," he said and tapped the booklet. A moment of panic spread over Logan's face before he was blown backward into Rogue and Kitty's room. Just as he was recovering, another smaller explosion originated from Rogue's books on the floor.

Leaving Kitty to explain the explosions and the new breadbox-sized hole in her floor, Logan launched himself off the balcony after Remy. Knowing he had too much of a head start to catch him on the grounds, the feral mutant sprinted to the garage to get his bike. The first obstacle was the blown security pad. Three adamantium claws took care of that problem. Next he sniffed the air; the Cajun had been inside the garage several hours ago. Without even looking at the vehicles or his bike, he knew they were decommissioned for a few hours.

In the distance, a motorcycle started up. Knowing his prey was escaping, Logan roared and extended his claws. "That Cajun just signed his death warrant."

* * *

(1) Rogue told Remy about Spyke and the Morlocks in Chapter 3 - See Spot Run.

(2) At some point in the comics, it was determined that Kitty Pryde had a photographic memory. So . . . did Logan really move the furniture? ;)

(3) In reference to _Fight Club_, where Tyler Durden has a night job where he does exactly that. He also pisses in people's soups at his waiter job. Recommended viewing; good music too.

**Next Up**: Remy confronts Essex! Plus, the identity of the current Marauder leader is revealed. Any guesses as to whom it is?


	27. Friends Don't Leave Friends in Hell

**A/N**: Since my external harddrive died and I don't know if I can pull a Frankenstein or not, does anyone have transcripts for "Self-Possessed" or "Under Lock & Key"? Or maybe know where I can download the episodes?

Oh, and check out the poll on my profile page about the title of the next story in the series. I couldn't figure out how to put a poll in a forum, but I did get it on my profile page, so deal.

Happy New Year! And please review, because I need a happy thought after the morning I've had.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-seven: Friends Don't Leave Friends in Hell**

The wind whipped Remy's hair and dried out his eyes as he sped along the highway. He was so glad he thought to disable Wolverine's bike and the X-Jeep when he first got to the Institute. Remy had anticipated being chased off the property by Logan, only under different, more playful circumstances. Logan on his tail now was the last thing he needed. Remy didn't consciously pay attention to the road or his speed, he let his instincts and enhanced agility guide the machine to a place he'd hoped he'd never see again. Genesis Medical may have sounded like a legitimate, professional clinic, but much more went on behind the scenes.

There were three kinds of mutants at the clinic. The first were the ones that had enough money to pay for treatment and whose powers did not impress Essex. Those were the lucky ones. The doctor kept a record of their DNA and do what they wanted, but he eventually sent them on their merry way.

The second set were the ones who couldn't pay and Essex wasn't impressed by. In the clinic's early days, these had the worst of it. They were the experiments, those who would become the Morlocks. In order to determine which strands of the X-Gene were which powers, Essex spliced other mutants' DNA into these mutants. Later, Essex developed a more effective method and didn't need them anymore, so they rotted in the cages beneath the compound. Essex couldn't have them out in the streets where his research could be studied and copied by others. The new ones that came were put to work in the public relations department producing _MZ_, a propaganda magazine aimed at enticing group number three to seek treatment and doing other promo work for the clinic.

The third set were those mutants Essex became obsessed with. It didn't matter whether they could pay or not, or even if they wanted treatment in the first place. Essex found a way to get them in his clutches. With Remy it was easy; he was out of control and would do anything to make it stop. Remy figured Rogue was in that same category. Essex started his inquiry program with her: After learning of her powers, he sent her an issue of _MZ_; if that didn't work, he'd send one of his minions out for a "chance testimony." If that didn't work, things got ugly, and you ended up with people like Malice.

Remy shook his head, wishing he could erase those memories and the part he played in them. He has to find Rogue and hope that he was in time. He couldn't believe he didn't realize Rogue was going to the Genesis. The clues were all there. Malice was bothering her, but he shrugged that off as Malice wanting to make him miserable. Then there was Wanda's tip-off: Rogue's new-found confidence. What was the root of Rogue's insecurities? Her powers. What would make her more confident in their relationship? Getting Essex to fix them. He was so blind and stupid to think that Rogue would be happy just being with him. He'd never be enough.

Before he knew it, Remy was cruising by familiar buildings and streets. He slowed his speed to something less suspicious and stopped a few blocks from the clinic. Finishing the trek on foot, Remy stopped to take in the clinic. It had changed since he was last there: the dormitory wing had been added, and Scrambler had finally gotten his rooftop playground. Remy smiled. As much as that kid frightened him, he was still a kid.

When he left, there were seven live-in employees, including him. By the looks of the new dormitory, there were many more, with powers he wasn't familiar with. Not to mention who Malice was occupying that hour. There was too much uncertainty to make a direct attack on the place, no matter how much Remy wanted to blow the building up. He had to sneak in, find out what Essex did to Rogue, and escape with her.

The easiest way to find out what Essex did to her was to find Rogue's file. His files would be locked in his office and on his harddrive. It wouldn't be a challenge to get into the office or find the file. The hard part would be avoiding Essex. Not only was the guy meticulous in the documentation of his work, but he was a workaholic. If Essex had a subject that peaked his interest, he'd be studying, testing, and scanning day and night.

Remy shifted his weight. The longer he waited, the more Rogue could be going through. He didn't have time to study floor plans and do research and figure out a way to lure Essex out of the building. He had to take his chances and go in tonight. His plan was a longshot, but he had to try.

With his thieving skills and mutant powers, Remy easily made his way into Genesis Medical. It also didn't hurt that there were holes in the security system that he never bothered to mention to anyone while he worked there. Remy only hoped that they had remained secret. Otherwise, this would be a short trip. He lit up one last cigarette to calm his nerves before going in.

In a few minutes, Remy found himself in the employee break room. He spied his target. It was warm and strong and the one thing that drew Essex out of his office. It was coffee. Remy pulled the pot off the warmer and dumped its contents down the drain. Forcing Essex to make an entire new pot the next time he emerged would buy Remy a few more minutes. It wasn't much, but at this point, the thief would take all he could get.

He slipped from the break room to find a good spot to stake-out Essex's office. After what felt like an eternity, the door to Essex's office finally opened, and the sinister man walked down the hallway. It took every ounce of restraint on Remy's part not to jump the doctor right then. As his footsteps faded around the corner, Remy emerged from hiding and slipped into Essex's office. Aside from the second desk, the office hadn't changed much from the last time he was in.

He smirked. _Novak finally whined enough to get her own desk_.

The thief flung open filing cabinet, scanning the names on the folder tabs. Not in the first drawer. He slammed the first drawer and started on the second.

Remy froze when he heard the doorknob to the computer room twist and snap open. He never considered that anyone would have been with Essex. Probably Vertigo sucking up.

Without thinking he slipped almost silently into Essex's closet. He held his breath as he heard feet shuffling in the office. They were too heavy for the blonde doctor. Hiding behind Essex's favorite black leather trench, Remy cursed his luck. The time he bought was being wasted hiding in a closet from some unknown lackey.

While deciding whether to bust out and attack the visitor, the door to the closet opened. Remy squinted at silhouetted figure.

The figure spoke. "Never thought you'd show your ugly face 'ere again."

Remy sighed with relief and stepped into the doorway of the closet. "Wisdom, t'ank God it's you. I was beginnin' to t'ink my luck had run out." Remy placed a hand on the Brit's shoulder.

Glaring at the Cajun, Pete Wisdom shrugged off Remy's hand. "You, unlucky? Never."

Confused at Wisdom's hostility, Remy asked, "Somethin' goin' on wit' you, mon ami?"

Wisdom circled back and sat on the corner of Essex's desk. He replied with the same harsh sarcasm as before. "With me? Nah. Same old, same old. How 'bout you, _mate_?"

The Brit had always been on the moody, broody side, but Remy could tell that something specific had crawled up Wisdom's pants this time. That didn't change the fact that Wisdom wasn't Remy's primary worry. "Look, I don' have time to joke around. I have to find Rogue's files and get her outta here. You gonna sit there or are you gonna help?" Remy quickly glided to the filing cabinets and continued where he left off while Wisdom stayed put.

Wisdom reached into his pocket and grabbed out a pack of cigarettes. He fiddled with the box and watched Remy frantically search through the files. When Remy started on the third drawer Pete spoke. "It's not in there."

Remy slammed the drawer and glared. "Where is it, t'en?!"

Looking over his shoulder, Wisdom sized up the Cajun. "Give me one reason I should help you."

Remy threw his arms in the air. Wisdom was taking his broodiness to an entirely different level. His former best friend sat on the desk doing absolutely nothing withholding information that was crucial for him to save the soul of the woman he loved. Maybe he did live up to the "Fool" nickname Malice had given him. "What's wrong wit' you, Wisdom? We used to be tight. Keep each other sane. Like Hawkeye and B.J. on _MASH_." (1)

Pete shook his head. "No. Turns out you weren't B.J."

The Cajun cocked his head. "I always t'ought I was Hawkeye."

Jumping off the desk, Wisdom pointed adamantly to himself. "_I_ was Hawkeye. _You_ were Trapper."

Remy raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure dat? I was de one dat got all de girls."

Wisdom tapped his cigarettes on the desk. "You left me 'ere, alone, in Korea, that's what." He turned his back to the Cajun, disgusted by the sight of him.

Remy walked around the desk so he stood in front of the Brit. "Dat's what dis is about?"

With piercing brown eyes, Wisdom replied, "Friends don't leave friends in 'ell."

Confused, Remy raised an eyebrow. "You're pissed because I left to work for Magneto?"

Pete crossed his arms and turned away, holding his tongue.

Frustrated, Remy threw his arms in the air. "Mon Dieu, Pete! It was a job offer, not a wedding invitation! Magneto didn't say, 'Gambit and guest. Please R.S.V.P.'"

Wisdom snorted. "You could have asked. Put in a good word. Done more than disappeared on a routine recruitment."

"It's not like workin' for Magneto is all fun and games. I spent de last week figured out how to take down a juice conglomerate that tests on mutants. Dey were tryin' to find a way to kill 'em. Den I find out dey tracked down most of Essex's lab rats dat I freed years ago 'cause dey were extra-fun to test on. After de mutants stopped spittin' on me, I wandered around de sewers for hours to find Callisto and de Morlocks so dey'd be safe."

"Sounds like a dream compared to what I've 'ad to deal with 'ere, alone." Wisdom stood up and got into Remy's face. "Truth is you didn't give me a second thought when you left. You were out and that was all that mattered. Some friend."

His eyes narrowed and Remy cocked his head. "Why _are_ you still here, Wisdom? Essex never worked on you. You don't owe him anythin'. You can walk out dat door anytime."

"You know why I'm stuck 'ere," he grumbled.

"Oh, dat's right. Your girlfriend. Excusez-moi, your _ex_-girlfriend. How long was it after you agreed to work off her debt dat she dumped you?" Wisdom narrowed his eyes. "Truth is you can walk out dat door anytime, and her debt goes back to her. T'ough Essex wouldn't like it. He wasn't too impressed by her. In fact, I wouldn' be surprised if he had planned all along to get to you t'ough dat whore - "

Wisdom launched and punched Remy across the face. "And what brought you 'ere, Remy? A girl. You hypocrite."

Remaining bent over, Remy wiggled his jaw and checked for blood. "It's different wit' me and Rogue."

Wisdom flashed a jaded smile. "It always is."

With glowing eyes, Remy stood up straight. "I'd kick your ass if I had de time."

"How much time do you have, Gambit?" came a disconcerting voice from the main doorway to the office. The doctor held a steaming cup in his hands. "I was hoping we could catch up. There's hot water in the break room for tea, if you'd like. It does wonders for your nerves. I'm glad Kim finally converted me over."

Remy directed his anger to Dr. Essex. "I've come here for Rogue."

"You mean, _The_ Rogue? She's upstairs, but quite out of it. She started her treatment this morning. Normally I would have waited a few more days, but she was so eager. I'd tell you more, but I'm bound by patient-doctor confidentiality."

Remy moved swiftly to attack the doctor, but Wisdom stepped in and pinned Remy to the wall with his projectile hot knives. Wisdom got another good punch to Remy's stomach before Esses stopped him.

"Wisdom, refusing a drink is no cause for such a reaction. Why don't you go make a fresh pot of coffee? Some imbecile dumped out the last pot."

Wisdom growled. "This isn't over between you and me, Gambit," he threatened but stood down.

Essex calmly turned his back and opened the door to the computer room. "Come, Gambit. I believe you wanted to speak about business." Remy ripped his trench coat getting off of Wisdom's knives and, without any other options, followed.

Wisdom shot daggers at them both. After the door shut behind the two, Wisdom opened Essex's closet door and ran his hot knives down Essex's favorite black leather trench coat. Satisfied that Essex's coat was shredded, he slammed the door and went out for a smoke.

* * *

"I want Rogue and her files. Den I'll be leavin' nice and peacefully wit'out blowin' anythin' up," Remy told Essex as soon as the door was closed. 

"I'm afraid the girl signed a contract with me. You don't want to make this a legal affair along with a personal affair."

"She's only seventeen. No contract she signed would be legally bindin'."

Essex paused. "She claims she is only seventeen. She was adopted. Perhaps I have records that prove otherwise."

"You bought stocks in some adoption agency?"

The doctor nodded. "You'd be surprised at how many future mutants are adopted. You, Rogue, Mystique's son, Scambler, the Summers . . ."

"Is t'ere some cookie jar you don't have your hand in, Essex?"

Essex smiled. "I like cookies."

Remy snorted and leaned up against the computer console. "What did you do to her? She gonna be another lab rat for you? One of your 'special projects'? 'Cause I can guarantee she won' go parading around wit' de team." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a file folder with Rogue's name on it. Remy slipped it into his jacket, unnoticed by Essex.

"She asked me to help her control her imprinting powers so she could touch people without any side-effects. I assume you were one of those people."

With his eyes averted to the floor, Remy whispered, "Did you?" Once the words fell from his mouth he was ashamed. He loved Rogue, whether he could touch her or not. The thing was, if she could control her powers, there might be a chance that she could love him back. It was that reason that he felt he had to ask.

Essex laughed. "I lead her to believe I could."

He looked up with burning red eyes. "You lied to her. Rogue doesn't take well to liars."

Essex shook his head and continued to show him that sinister smile. "You know I never lie. It is too easy to tell people what they want to hear without fully explaining your meaning."

Remy poked Essex in the chest with his bo staff, pushing the doctor into his chair. "What. Did. You. Do?"

"I simply sped up the advancement of her secondary mutation."

Remy's eyes glowed, and he roared, "English!"

"If you would remove this stick from my chest, I'll show you." As soon as Remy dropped his bo staff, Essex rolled over to the computer console. After pressing a few buttons, graphs, diagrams, and letters appeared on the screen. They were gibberish to Remy. "The Rogue's DNA is truly remarkable. I told her that by advancing her mutation she could control her powers, although I didn't say which powers she'd gain control of. See, when Rogue imprints another mutant's DNA, she stores a record of the pattern, so there is the potential that she'd be able to call upon the powers of those she's previously absorbed without touching them again."

"What about the touching thing? That's why she came to you in the first place. Or didn't you care 'bout what she wanted?"

Essex shook his head. "That aspect of her powers can't be controlled by any genetic means, given the technology I have to work with. I could not find any genetic hindrances to the conscious controlling of her absorption powers. Her absorption powers may be a physical mutation, like a tail, scales, or unusual eyes, and may be impossible to consciously control. It is also possible that she has developed some sort of psychological block which prevents her from controlling her absorption powers."

"What about doing to her what you did to me? Couldn't you do dat?"

"I could not cut out or bind her mutant gene like I did with yours. Your gene was near the telomere, or end of the chromosome, making it easy to find and bind. Hers is too close to the centromere. In trying to bind or cut it out, I would damage so much DNA that it wouldn't be worth it."

Having gathered all the information he felt he needed, Remy decided to speed up the conversation. He laid out the situation simply. "She'll never work for you. Let her go."

Essex burst out laughing. "No, I don't think so."

Taking out a deck of cards, Remy began to shuffle as he thought. Finally he spoke. "What about an exchange: Her for me. You did it for Wisdom. I'll even finish that last job you sent me on to square my debt." (2)

Remy's offer only made Essex laugh harder. "You for her? That's not a fair deal. You have no concept of her potential, do you? The Rogue will be able to call upon the powers of any mutant she has ever imprinted! She would essentially be a one-woman mutant army. You, my boy, are nothing compared to her."

Running out of options, Remy ground his teeth and pointed to the computer screen. "If you don't let her go, I'll destroy all your research."

Essex continued to smile. "That may have worked once coming from Magneto's mouth, but since then I've made some changes. I've switched to weekly DVD backups. Storage off-site. No more magnetically erasing my harddrive."

Placing his hands on the console, Remy kinetically charged the machine. "Will the DVDs save all the data you've collected on Rogue this past week from going up into smoke? Even if it does, I bet I can figure out where you keep the back-ups easy."

His smile faded, but Essex was still confident. "But if you destroy my research, how will I ever unbind your mutant powers?"

Remy was flabbergasted. "And be put under your knife again? Why would I want to do dat?"

Essex smirked. "Because with those powers unbound, you would be one of the few people in the world to touch The Rogue without any side-effects."

* * *

(1) It was mentioned in Chapter 13 - "You're Touchy Today" that _MASH_ was the one show that the Marauders could all tolerate. Hawkeye and Trapper were doctors and best friends in South Korea during the Korean "Conflict". In the show Trapper left Korea while Hawkeye was on R&R and never said goodbye or was heard from again. B.J. was the doctor that replaced him. 

(2) Remy's last job for Essex is mentioned in flashback form in Nine to Five: Chapter 7 - An Interlude with Ice Cream. Essex sent Remy to recruit the last mutant for one of Essex's special projects: Angel.

**Next up**: Rogue wakes up! Heads are about to fly!


	28. Ah Can't Run Away

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-eight: Ah Can't Run Away  
**

The first thing Rogue felt was shooting pains from her unused muscles. Her head and her right hip was especially sore. She tried to reach up and rub her neck, but something prevented her arm from moving. Her other arm was locked into place as well.

As her memories flowed back to her, Rogue began to panic. The bright white light of the examination room burned her eyes, but she didn't dare shut them. She sat up as straight as she could, so she could get a good look at the room and her situation. Her arms and legs were strapped to the table she laid on. She was still in her paper examination gown, but a white blanket had been tossed over her to keep her warm.

She struggled with her restraints for a few minutes before giving up. She took a deep breath and fell back onto the cot. Struggling X-Men, but her love for the law wasn't that great.

She had no super-strength to pull off the restraints nor laser beams that shot out of her eyes. For all she knew, she might not even have her God-given powers anymore. That notion scared her a million times more that she thought it would. She had cursed her abilities since she got them, but without them she didn't have the surefire protection they gave her. She felt naked. Before, no one could get close; no one would get close. If they did, it hurt them a lot more than it did her. That is until the X-Men and Remy came along.

Rogue scolded herself. She was an idiot for doing this and even more of an idiot for not telling anyone. There was no one coming to save her; she was on her own. Funny, usually that was what she was demanding from everyone: _Leave meh alone; Ah can do it mahself_. Never did she think she'd regret her instance on her independence. Was it really that hard to ask someone to come with her to the clinic? Or to confide in someone?

Rogue's breathing shuddered before she caught herself. _Stop the pity parade, girl. Ya got more important things ta take care o' first_. The straps were leather so they would be durable, but gave a little so they wouldn't cut a struggling patient. Rogue concentrated on her right hand, which felt a little looser than the left. All she hand to do was wiggle one hand out, and the rest would be clear sailing.

Instead of clenching her fist like before, she relaxed her hand and slipped her thumb into her palm. She pulled upward toward her head, attempting to slide her hand through. She gained a half a centimeter. Rogue continued to wiggle and stretch the leather and kept her eyes on the door in case someone should enter. Being doctors, she figured Essex and the others knew about what time she would wake up from the anesthetics and would soon check up on her.

As Rogue struggled with the slow processes of freeing her right hand, she tried to plan the rest of her escape. The problem was, she had no idea where she was. Was she in one of the second floor recovery rooms or one of the few examination rooms downstairs? She could have been taken to an empty dorm room for all she knew. Hell, she could be in a different building, city, country. . . What had she gotten herself into?

Suddenly, her hand slipped a few centimeters instead of millimeters. She was almost free!

Footsteps at the door made Rogue's blood run cold. She laid back down and closed her eyes, hoping the intruder wouldn't notice her ruffled blanket or have heard any noises. The door opened, and Rogue held her breath and listened intently.

The person's movements were not regular; their feet shuffled and slid across the floor. Then the person started humming. Rogue relaxed a little: _Thank God for iPods_. She heard medical gloves snapping and steps toward her. She struggled to remain limp as rubber tubing was tied around her upper left arm. One of the stranger's hands felt for Rogue's vein.

"A hora tomas su medicia, senorita (1)," the stranger said as she brought the needle to Rogue's forearm.

Snapping open her eyes, Rogue snatched the purple-haired woman's wrist with her free hand. "Think again!" Rogue yanked the woman across the cot, smacking her head on the light above the bed. The syringe of tranquilizer clattered on the floor. The purple-haired janitor fell backward, clutching her bruised head.

Rogue quickly undid her binds and jumped off the cot, tipping it over. She bent down and picked up the tranquilizer. Without a second thought, she jammed it into the recovering minion and pushed the translucent liquid into her body. Rogue staggered backward as the woman slumped to the floor.

Rogue took a second to catch her breath before rushing to the door. With her hand on the knob, she paused again, staring at the bare face of the unconscious woman. Given the other company Essex kept, Rogue assumed this woman was a mutant too. One touch and she could have another trick up her sleeve if she met any more resistance. She took a step back toward her with her arm outstretched.

Inches from the woman's cheek, her hand jerked back as if bitten. Was this a good idea? She knew the doctor had done something to her. What if her powers didn't work? What if she could control them? What if they were more powerful than before? Rogue's bare hand hovered; her head was full of fear and uncertainty. She only now noticed how cold she was in her disposable outfit.

When she calmed the questions in her head, one still shouted out to her: _If mah powers don't work, will Ah be happy or deathly afraid?_ Rogue took a deep breath. It was better to find out now what happened to her powers, alone in this room, than somewhere else when she would be depending on them. Her pale hand reached to brush the woman's cheek. All the while Rogue concentrated on blocking the flow of any energy or memories, in case Essex did do what he said he was going to.

It was the same as before. A tumble of memories stampeded unbidden into her mind, and her body fell against the door. They were dark, violent and a few bittersweet. There were some with Remy . . . Rogue gasped and quickly pushed away the anger and hatred Arclight had for Remy. She tried to lock away more of the woman's memories, but they kept knocking over the walls. They were strong and domineering, like the woman she had absorbed.

Rogue couldn't stand to look at the woman and see the atrocities she would now always remember. Rogue fell out into the hallway and slammed the door behind her. She leaned up against the door and slid to the floor. She should have known better than to absorb one of Essex's employees. She knew Remy was permanently scarred from working for him, so why didn't she realize that these people would not be full of happy, fluffy-puppy memories?

Her face fell into her hands. It was a stupid thing to do; she was stupid. Whatever made her think she was a smart, scrappy survivor, able to take anything life threw at her? She was nothing, and she was alone.

Her foot slipped, making a loud squeaky noise against the linoleum. Rogue's head shot up, glancing around for anyone who might have heard her. Satisfied that no one was coming, Rogue let out a sigh of relief and stood up. She still had to make it out of this place.

Rogue cautiously made her way through the hallways until she saw an exit sign. She was on the second floor. When she was almost to the landing between the second and first floors, the door below her flew open. Throwing her body against the wall, Rogue hid in the shadows. She held her breath as she watched a dark-haired man scurry down to the fire door leading to the outside.

After he left, Rogue sighed and sat on the stairs for a second. If she left now, out the stairwell, she'd have to get past that guy first. She recognized him from her first session with Essex, and Arclight was screaming the name Wisdom in her head. Rogue shoved the woman's psyche back. Her memories might be helpful to fight the guy, but it was not worth the unpleasantness of them. There was someplace else she had seen him too, but she couldn't remember where (2).

How many more mutants lived here, indebted to Essex? It was obvious that Malice and Arclight didn't mind their work, but it seriously messed Remy up. How many more were here like him? Like Rogue might have been?

Rogue straightened up and set her gaze. She wasn't going to run out that door and forget about this place. She was going to end it, so others that came here innocently looking for a "normal" life would not end up broken like her boyfriend.

With new determination, she sprinted downstairs and yanked the door open. Using Arclight's super-strength, she snapped the door off its hinges. The halls were empty as Rogue ran toward Essex's office. Thirty feet ahead, someone stepped out into the hallway from a lab. Rogue skidded to a stop.

The blonde doctor looked up from her clipboard and cocked her head in wonder. Rogue took advantage of the doctor's surprise and brought her hands together. Dr. Novak flew backwards with an incredible force, making a large hole in the wall.

Rogue approached the hole cautiously and peered in. The woman's eyes were closed and her body was limp. Rogue shrugged. _Ah hope they're all that easy_.

More cautiously this time, Rogue headed to Essex's office. A few minutes later, she opened the door in the shallow hallway and stepped into the office. The X-Man stared at the wall with the two doors and the photographs. Once she opened that door, there was no turning back. She had to finish the job and keep Jamie and Sam and all the other mutants to come safe from the madman. He had planned to make her do unthinkable things and lure others into his trap.

Clenching her fist, Rogue could feel Arclight's strength flowing through her veins. She let the woman's anger and determination feed into her. She had to end it. Rogue placed her left hand on the door to the "Batcave" and brought back her right in a fist. It was time to make that bastard pay. Her knuckles made contact with the door, and it folded in on itself, flying into the room.

Rogue stomped into the room, her eyes adjusting to the dull blue glow of the computers. She spied her target when the dust cleared.

"How does that fine print look now, doc?" Rogue brought her hands together, sending a shockwave through the room. The lighter tables flipped over, and anything not secured to the floor flew to the walls. Out of the corner of her eye, Rogue noticed a second person fly across the room.

Normally, Rogue would have investigated the guest to prevent a surprise later, but an insistent voice in her head thirsted for a fight. Rogue didn't shut out the voice; she let it taint her. She knew what she had to do next, and she knew she couldn't do it alone. Arclight's whispers helped plan and fuel her attack.

Regaining his senses, Essex kneeled, struggling to stand up. Rogue stomped the floor, knocking Essex back on his ass. "Ya aren't going anywhere, ya hijo de puta (3)."

Rogue paused her approach to bend down. She picked up a piece of rubble and chucked it at him. The scientist tried to dodge it, but his leg did not move fast enough.

Even though he was trapped, he smiled when Rogue reached him with a table leg in her hand. "And he thought you didn't have the stomach for this work."

The table leg cut across Essex's face. "Shut up!" she said. "Golpeé tú para Remy (4)." Rogue raised her hand again. "Este es para me." She brought the table leg down his chest. Essex winced, but continued to grin. "Stop smiling!" She hit him again across the face.

The doctor spit to the side, then locked eyes with his assailant. "I can't. I'm too proud that you have come this far."

Rogue's eyes burned. She gritted her teeth and raised her hand.

* * *

Across the room, Remy stirred. He opened his eyes, but he couldn't see much of the place with all the overturned tables. Moving to his knees, Remy recalled the few seconds before he was knocked across the room. His eyes widened.

"Rogue!" he yelled and bounded to where he had heard pounding. He froze at the sight.

Rogue towered over a bloody Essex. "¡Te exterminare aquí y ahora!¡No encarcelarás mas  
personas! (5)"

Remy rushed forward and grabbed her covered shoulder. "Rogue! Stop!"

The moment his hand touched her, he found himself flying through the air, but in a few seconds Remy was on his feet again. "Stop, Rogue! Stop before you do somet'in' stupid."

Rogue paused and looked at the Cajun out of the corner of her eye. She smiled and licked some blood splatter from around her mouth. Although she spoke English, a Mexican accent replaced her Southern one. "This is the smartest thing I did today, Rem-Rem." She looked at the blood-splattered Essex. "Beautiful, you think, no?"

Essex bobbed his head toward Remy. "It's amazing how far she's come."

Remy's eyes glowed, and he threw a card dripping with kinetic energy at Essex. "You enculé!" Essex's right hand exploded.

"That's the idea, guapo," Rogue said. She paused with the bloody table leg slung over her shoulder, waiting for Remy to take a more active role.

Instead he tried appealing to reason. "This isn't you, Rogue. Stop it now."

She snorted. Her Southern accent was back. "How do ya know? Ah can' let him keep doin' what he's doin'. Ah can' run away like ya!"

His voice was quiet; Rogue strained to hear him. "I know you, chere. Dis isn't you. Dis isn't de way."

She raised the metal leg, this time with tears brimming in her eyes. "Ah have ta."

A hot knife skimmed through the air, knocking the table leg from Rogue's hands. Wisdom shook his head. "Stupid slag. It doesn't do any good to beat 'em."

Wisdom prepared to throw another handful of hot knives from the office, but Remy was faster. A few charged cards hit the wall above the door, filling the opening with rubble. "Dis is a private party, homme!"

"Gracias," Rogue told Remy as she kicked Essex in the rib cage. His body bounced a little, unlodging him from the rubble. The Goth noticed something as he crawled away from her. He had a right hand.

Remy grabbed Rogue's covered shoulders. He pulled her away from the doctor who smiled and wiped his face. Underneath the blood, Essex's spotless, pigmentless skin gleamed in the computer's light.

Noticing Rogue's stare, Remy stepped in front of her and stooped to look her right in the eye. "Rogue, chere, stop it before you regret it."

Rogue caught another glimpse of Essex's new hand. "He. . . he can heal? Like Logan? Why can't he just die?!" She screamed and threw Remy out of her way. She grabbed a pencil from the floor and, kneeling, stabbed the doctor's new hand. When she pulled it out, the skin closed up not like it was healing but like oil coating a pan.

Rogue looked up to find Essex mere inches from her face. "Fascinating, isn't it?" he said.

Rogue grimaced and stabbed the doctor in his beady eye. Essex yelped and slid away from the girl while pulling out the writing utensil.

This had to end! She had to stop him. With desperate tears, Rogue tuned in to the bloodthirsty voice in her head. It was much quieter than before. Rogue had to act fast before her super-strength was gone. She reached for a nearby microscope.

Whipping off his trench coat, Remy threw it around Rogue and embraced her from behind. The microscope fell to the ground. Again he pulled her away from Essex. "You aren't a murderer, Rogue. You have no idea what it'll do to you."

In two seconds, Rogue slipped down and out of the Cajun's embrace. She punched him in the stomach, knocking him off his feet. "Sí, cold-blooded murder is your speciality."

His body turned cold. "How'd you know 'bout dat?"

Rogue threw a monitor at him, but Remy easily dodged it. "I was there! ¡Asesinaste mi novio y mi mejor amigo!"

"No, you weren't. Rogue, dis isn't you! That's Arclight. Stop listenin' to her!"

"Why? She's been helpin' meh." Rogue dropped the clipboard she was going to toss next, and stared off to the side. "Ah couldn' do it alone. Ah'm weak, stupid - "

Remy approached her again, this time slinging his coat over her shoulders. His hand hovered above her mouth. "Lies, chere. I don't want to here any more comin' outta that pretty little mouth."

Three hot knives flew at the couple. Rogue sensed them and pulled Remy down. None of them hit her, but Remy was less fortunate. He got a bad haircut and a good chunk taken out of his arm.

Remy grimaced, but stayed in the game. Wisdom had managed to dig a hole through the rubble. The Brit's head disappeared, and two stretchy purple hands popped in to move more wall out of the way. Remy staggered to the computer servers and blew them up along with any data Essex had gathered since he did back-ups. Rogue's electronic file was gone, and he had the hardcopy.

After making an exit in an outside wall, Remy glanced back to see that Rogue hadn't moved. She stood staring at the smirking Essex.

"You are already one of us," he said.

"He's tryin' to trick you into stayin'!" Remy stood half in his makeshift doorway. "Come wit' me, chere. You don' belong here."

Rogue kicked a table at the doctor and ran to her boyfriend.

* * *

(1) This was my horrible Spanish translation of "Time to take your medicine." Please correct me.

(2) Wisdom and Remy were in one of the few memories Rogue got from Malice in Chapter 7 – You Aren't Delusional.

(3) I believe "Hijo de puta" is more or less "son of a whore".

(4) Literally: "I hit you for Remy."

(5) "I'm ending you here and now! You will not imprison more people!" (Thanks Itachi's aprentice)

**Next Up**: Pasts revealed and confessions made!


	29. Love Makes People Stupid

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**NOVEMBER RAIN: Chapter Twenty-nine: Love Makes People Stupid**

The ride to the Institute was silent and long. They had done a field dress on Remy's wound, but it still throbbed. Rogue had tried to drive the motorcycle to give Remy a break, but with only her underclothing, a paper gown, and Remy's trench coat on, she was chilled to the bone. For the last length of the trip, Remy guided the bike through the Westchester country.

When the stone wall and brick mansion of Xavier's school came into view, Rogue tensed and yelled over the engine and the wind, "Stop!"

Remy craned his neck back. "What?"

Rogue grabbed the handlebars and jerked the bike off-balance."Stop!" she repeated as the motorcycle cut to the right and leaned over. The Goth leapt off and ran into the woods.

Remy's luck had finally run out; he shredded his right pant leg against the pavement. After he stopped moving, he shoved the motorcycle off and limped to the last place he had seen Rogue. He called her name, but she didn't respond. Remy tracked her shuffled footprints on the frosted ground. When he found her, she was sitting at the base of a large tree facing away from her home. His coat was wrapped tightly around her body as she clutched her knees and rocked back and forth ever so slightly.

Remy stood staring at her for a few moments before warily asking, "Rogue, what was dat all about?"

The girl turned her head and looked at the ground. "Ah can't go back." She peered up at him with wide eyes. "'Take meh anywhere, Ah don' care.'" She examined Remy's socks on her feet. "'Ah don' care; Ah don' care,'" she mumbled (1).

"But it's your home."

She shook her head. "Ah don' have a home anymore."

The Cajun squatted down and put his hand on her forearm. "De Institute is de safest place. I don't t'ink he'll attack you t'ere. If he does, you'll have your family." He tried to catch Rogue's eye, but she refused to look at him. He sighed. "Runnin' is worse. Believe me, I know."

Remy stood up and stared blankly off to the side. His past and his relationship with Rogue jumbled about in his head. He snorted. "Believe me? Why should you? If I'd told you 'bout t'ose people, we wouldn't be here." Remy kicked the ground and swore.

Finally looking up, Rogue spoke to Remy's back. "Ya self-centered prick." Remy turned his head sharply at the blunt insult. Rogue continued. "How do ya manage ta manipulate every situation ta be your fault? 'Cause Ah don' think ya were the one that ran off without tellin' anyone what was goin' on."

One corner of Remy's mouth turned up. Rogue had gone through hell today, but she still had her spunk. "You forgot de lyin'."

Rogue glared. "Like Ah need that kinda shit from ya right now, Cajun."

"Je suis désolé."

Rogue turned her face from him and brushed some dirt from her leg. "How'd ya figure out where Ah'd gone, anyway?"

Remy sighed. "_MZ_ in your backpack. It was standard recruitin' procedure." Feeling guilty, he shuffled his feet. "Shoulda figured it out earlier. All de clues were t'ere, but I never t'ought -"

Rogue's head snapped up, her voice filled with misplaced anger. "-thought your girlfriend was such an idiot? Ah know. Neither did Ah." Her mouth clasped shut, and Rogue went back to studying the creases in Remy's coat.

Kneeling down next to her, Remy tried to touch her again, but she jerked away. He sighed. "It's not your fault. When Essex sets his sights on someone, not'ing will stop him. I tried to convince him to take me back and let you go, and he only laughed. From de moment he found out 'bout you he wanted you. He'll do anything to convince someone to come to him. He can even make it seem like it was your idea. Wisdom - "

Shaking her head violently, Rogue turned her head with eyes brimming. "No, Remy. Ah knew exactly what Ah was doin'. Ah got the creepy vibe from day one, but Ah ignored it." She snorted. "Up 'til the last minute, Ah thought it might be worth it." She stared at her bare hands.

Remy slouched against the tree and crossed his arms. He had heard this story before. "Worth it to touch _anybody_ you wanted," he said with scorn.

"Fuck you, Remy."

Silence fell between them. In his head, Remy replayed his conversation with Essex about his powers and wondered if he had made the right decision. He considered mentioning the offer to Rogue. He didn't want the touching thing to matter, but it did, especially to her. Would she love him if he could touch her? Or would she only be with him because she could touch him? He didn't want their relationship to be one of convenience for her. He wanted something more. He decided that some secrets were meant to be kept, at least for the present.

A few minutes later, Remy sighed and stood up. Brushing the debris off his pants, he said, "We better be gettin' you back. De whole house is probably waitin' up."

Rogue remained seated and stared at him. "Don't ya get it? I can't go back there. Not after today."

Remy thought he did get it: Rogue didn't want to endanger her family. Except she didn't know Essex like he did. "T'ey'll be in even more danger if you run. If Essex can't find you, he'll strike at dem."

"Is that what happened ta ya?"

Remembering that night, he swallowed hard. "Oui." Rogue waited for him to continue. Taking out a deck of cards, Remy leaned up against a nearby tree and shuffled them. "When I left Essex de first time, it was after I had found out 'bout Callisto and de others. I freed who I could and disappeared." Remy smirked. "He was pissed but couldn't find me. I knew he wouldn't. Scalphunter was a good tracker, but no match for a master t'ief like moi. T'ing is, I didn't realize what lengths he'd go to to get me back.

"Got word t'rough de Guild: Mon frére went missin'. When I got to Orleans, Scalphunter was waitin'. Met him on de roof of de Hibernia Bank Building. He was sitting in a lawn chair wit' Henri tied up on his left and a stroller wit' a baby in it on his right.

"I told him that Essex won. Dat I would go back wit' him like nothin' had happened if he'd let mon frére and de bébé go. Instead of untyin' 'em, Scalphunter picked 'em both up and held 'em over the ledge. He laughed and said de meetin' wasn't 'bout lettin' them go. By meetin' him t'ere, I only won de chance to save one of his hostages."

Remy paused and took a few deep breaths. "De sick bastard dropped 'em. Right in front o' me. I ran as fast as I could, but I knew I could only catch one: Mon frére or some bébé I didn' know. I went after my brother, o' course, and de bébé splattered against de sidewalk." He gulped. "I couldn't figure out why Scalphunter kidnapped a baby to threaten me with. Den I took de tape off Henri's mouth.

"Turns out I did know de bébé. It was my niece Genevieve, Henri's pride and joy." Remy pushed himself off the tree. "Let's just say I'm not welcome back home anymore."

Recalling Arclight's memories, Rogue asked, "Is that when ya killed Scalphunter?"

He shook his head. "Not right away. I didn' know what would happen to me if I did anythin'. Den one day he and Blockbuster went too far. De next time I saw 'em, I did it. Blockbuster put up a fight, but Scalphunter never saw it comin'." Remy fixed his gaze and clenched his jaw. "I don' regret it."

The wind howled through the trees. Rogue pulled Remy's coat tighter around herself. "Remy," she whispered, "Ah'm scared."

Putting his cards away, he shrugged. He knew she wouldn't want to be around a monster like him. "I know. I shoulda told you when you asked, but I hoped de longer I dragged dragged t'ings out, the more you might get to like me, and then it wouldn' matter, but . . ."

Remy tossed a file folder at her feet. "I stole dat from his office. It should tell you every little detail of what he did to you." The Cajun started to walk away, but spoke over his shoulder. "I'll go now. Keep de jacket. You won't have ta worry about me botherin' you anymore. I'll leave you alone dis time."

Rogue cocked her head and squinted at the disembarking form. "Ah'm not scared o' you, ya moron. If ya even think 'bout takin' another step without meh, Ah'll throw an acorn at your head."

The Cajun stopped and turned back. "An acorn?"

Rogue tossed the small seed up in the air and caught it. "They hurt like a mother."

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, but it fell before it could be considered a smile. His face remained grave. "You aren' scared of me?"

Shaking her head, Rogue repeated, "Stay."

Remy cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"Ah need ya ta stay with meh. Ah need someone who understands. . ."

Remy waited for Rogue to continue, but her last syllable hung without any sign of recovery. He shook his head. "You don' want me. Not even my family wants me. I'm damaged goods."

"So? We're all damaged goods! (2) What makes ya so special?"

His reply was to the point: "I voluntarily worked for a sinister man who enjoys experimentin' on people, recruited more people for his science projects, killed an innocent bébé, and murdered two co-workers wit'out remorse."

Counting her fingers, Rogue replied, "In the past week Ah've lied ta all of the few people Ah trust and tried ta beat a man ta death with a table leg. And that doesn't count all the craziness goin' on up here 24-7." Rogue pointed to her temple and twirled her finger around. Remy opened his mouth to retort, but Rogue cut him off. "_Nothin_' trumps other people in your head, so don't even try." They both looked away and let the silence fall.

Replaying the last thing Remy said in her head, Rogue couldn't help but ask, "'Sinister man'?"

Remy rolled his eyes. "John keeps callin' him 'Mr. Sinister,' and it's stuck in my head."

Rogue snorted and shrugged. "It fits him."

Chuckling, Remy added, "He'd hate it. He's a _doctor_."

"That makes it even better."

The wind gusted through the forest. "I shouldn't stay," Remy argued. Rogue gave him a dirty glance, so he tried to explain himself again. "You don' do stuff you know is wrong. You aren't a killer, Rogue. Dat's de difference between you and me."

"The only reason Ah'm not a killer is 'cause ya stopped meh."

"Non, it's 'cause you tried to kill a guy who can't die. I picked my targets better."

Rogue leaned her head back against the tree. "Seriously, Remy. If it weren't fo' ya, Ah'd be – Ah don't know where Ah'd be. Ya saved meh tonight." Rogue took interest in decaying leaves, moving them around with her finger. "In more than one way."

"One good deed in a sea of bad ones don' make a good man."

"Ah'm not askin' fo' a good man ta stay with meh, Ah'm asking fo' _you_ ta stay!" Rogue snapped. She sighed and calmed herself. When Rogue caught his eye, she asked, "So what'll be, swamp rat? Meh or the acorn?"

Remy looked from Rogue to his feet, then back to the girl. "Trouble follows me. I don' want to bring you any more trouble."

She snorted. "Ah'm an X-Men; trouble's mah life. Yours is barely a drop in the bucket."

"But I lead Essex right to you!"

"How do ya know that? He coulda found meh on Facebook for all ya know."

"You don' have a Facebook."

Rogue paused, then spoke clearly and sincerely. "Remy, it's not your fault."

"But -"

"It's not your fault. It's mah stupid fault. And your niece dyin' – that wasn't your fault either. No matter what your family says."

"Yes -"

"No! Stop puttin' all this stuff that ya had no control over on your shoulders."

"But if I had known -"

"But ya didn't. Just like Ah didn' want ta know Essex was a bad man. Excuse meh, 'sinister man'."

"If I had told you -"

"But ya didn't. Maybe that's somethin' we should work on."

"Now?" he questioned.

Rogue rolled the acorn across her finger tips before looking up. "No, Ah think Ah've had mah fill of drama tonight. All Ah'm askin' ya ta do tonight is stay with meh."

"Askin'? I thought it was stay or face de wrath of Squirrel Girl."

She chucked the oak seed at a fallen tree. "Ah'm not makin' ya do anythin'. Stay or go. Your choice. If ya go, don' expect ta see meh again."

Remy stood in deep thought. She said she wasn't afraid of him, that she didn't blame him for what happened. But could he believe her? Her trust didn't come easy. How could he still have it?

One last look at her face made his decision easy. She was alone and needed someone who understood. Not someone who would try to fix things or judge her like some of the X-Men, but someone who could relate. She had been through one hell of a night, and she desperately needed him. Not Scott, not Kitty, not Logan, but him. He took a seat across from her on the damp ground.

Rogue glanced up briefly. "Good choice."

As Rogue played with her rings in silence, Remy tried to rub the goose-bumps off his arms. "We should be gettin' inside. Don' want to return you scarred and sick. We can talk t'ere."

Shaking her head, Rogue looked up, angry. "Haven't ya been listening? Ah can't go back there!"

Remy sighed. "It's de safest -"

"Ah not talkin' 'bout that!"

"What are you talkin' 'bout?"

Her muscles tightened, and she began to rock back and forth. "Ah don' belong there anymore. Ah can't face them." She stopped rocking for a moment. "Ah'm scared."

"Scared of what, chere?"

She stared intently at the decaying leaves on the ground. "Meh. What Ah was gonna do." Remy opened his mouth to object, but she met his eyes, silencing him. "Do ya know why Ah didn't tell anyone Ah was goin' ta Essex?"

Remy opened his mouth, but shut it after no words came out. After all, Essex's business looked legitimate. What would be so wrong about mentioning it to the X-Men?

Ashamed, Rogue flicked an acorn at an unsuspecting tree. "Ah couldn't. Ah felt like Ah'd be betrayin' them if they knew. Like Ah was saying, 'It's been fun, freaks, but Ah'm gonna go live a normal life now.'"

"Rogue -"

She held up her hand to silence him. "No, Remy. Up 'til that last moment, Ah was ready ta give up everythin' ta be able ta touch ya. That mornin' if Essex had said all he could do was take away mah powers, Ah woulda signed the contract. Ah just . . ." Rogue caught his eye. "Ah'm scared."

Remy moved to her side and put his arm around her. "Sshhh. No one will blame you for t'inking dat. Dey know it's hard for you."

"Thing is, Ah wasn't only gonna change mah DNA today. Ah was changin' meh. That's when Ah realized Ah couldn't go through with it. It already changed meh. Ah lied ta everybody. . . It's like Ah can't even trust myself anymore. Ah'm scared; Ah don't know what ta do!"

"You're gonna go home and apologize. You don' have to tell everythin' if you don' want to. Just dat you made a mistake and got mixed up wit' de wrong crowd. Do me a favor, t'ough: Don' make the same mistake I did. Tell dem to keep an eye out for Malice and Arclight and de others."

Rogue pulled away to look at Remy's face with fear in her eyes."But what's gonna keep meh from doin' somethin' stupid again?"

The trademark smirk appeared. "Dat's what you got me for, chere."

She averted her eyes and curled up in his chest. "For how long?"

Remy took a deep breath to calm himself. "How many times do I have to tell you -"

"'At least once more, swamp rat, as always.'" (3)

"I won' leave you 'cause of your powers."

"Ah wish Ah could believe ya, but Ah can't get ridda that fear that Ah won't be enough. Ah was so scared that ya would leave that Ah almost changed who Ah was so Ah could keep you. Ah don't want ta lose ya, Remy. Ah think- Ah think Ah'm in love with you, and. . . Ah'm stupid. Ah'm so stupid."

Remy could help but smile, even though there were a few tears coming down her cheeks. "Love makes people stupid. Didn' you know that?"

Still clutching Remy's chest, Rogue made a half-shrug. "Never been in love before. Didn't think it would hurt so much."

"Good part is you don' hurt alone."

"Ah don' want to be alone anymore, Remy. Ah don' think Ah can do this alone anymore."

"Do what?"

"Life."

"You better not be talkin' 'bout suicide."

Rogue pushed away and gave him the evil eye. "Ah might be in stupid love, but mah IQ hasn' dropped that much, swamp rat!"

Remy held his open hands up defensively. "Just checking."

Bringing her hands to her lap, Rogue broke eye contact again. "Ah. . . Ah need ta know that ya'll be there for meh. Ya gotta keep meh from doin' somethin' stupid again. For however long ya're around -"

Grabbing her shoulders, Remy forced her to look at him. "Mon Dieu, Rogue! You won' lose me. Don' you ever t'ink dat bein' wit' you won' be enough. I've been wit' hundreds of girls, and not one of them compares to you and de way I feel when you're around. De way we understand each other with just a few words, at least on most subjects, de way we argue, when we don'. . .All dat makes it worth it."

"Ah feel the same way," she whispered.

Remy perked an eyebrow. "Did you happen to tape yourself wit' t'ose hundred ot'er girls?"

Rogue punched him in the arm and smiled. "Of course. Patrick said he would keep them in his closet fo' meh, but ya can't watch 'em. No _Lesbian Spank Inferno_ fo' ya (4)."

Their chuckles subsided, and Rogue rested her head on Remy's shoulder. "Now what?"

"You wanna go back to the Institute yet?"

"No, not yet. Let's stay here a little longer. Then Ah'll go back, Ah guess."

"Den we rest our heads and pray it doesn' start rainin'."

"Ah don' mind the rain as long as ya're here."

* * *

**A/N**: We've got a short epilogue next that leads us from here into "uncut" versions of "Self-Possessed" and "Under Lock and Key", which I'm going to meld into the next story or at least the prologue for the next story. 

(1) Lyrics from The Smiths' song "There is a Light that Never Goes Out," which is the full title of the next story. Don't forget to vote for the short title of the next story on my profile page.

(2) Paraphrased quotes from the movie _Playing by Heart_. Lines said between characters Joan (Angelina Jolie) and the blue-haired Keenan (Ryan Phillippe, drools). Recommended viewing; fast forward through the story with the adulteress woman and the guy from ER.

(3) Quote paraphrased from _Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl_.

(4) In reference to the British TV show _Coupling_. Patrick has a closet with tapes of almost every woman he has had sex with. _Lesbian Spank Inferno _is a porno that is almost its own character in the show. It has an entire episode dedicated to it ("Inferno"). Required viewing.


	30. Epilogue: Darkness Rising

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

* * *

**Epilogue to November Rain: Darkness Rising**

"Bloody Cajun!" Wisdom yelled and kicked a chair out of his way.

Essex, in a set of clean clothes with his black leather trench over his arm, waltzed back into the broken room. "There's no need to make an even bigger mess. He did what he was supposed to do, even if his girlfriend did cause more damage than I had expected. He forgot the file, but -"

Wisdom rolled his eyes. "'e got the fake file, boss."

The doctor stepped back in surprise. "I didn't see him take. .." Essex scanned the area where he had left the file. Not seeing the manila folder, he smiled. "Gambit is a good thief."

"Doctor . . ." Arclight hesitantly entered the room. "I. . . I didn't mean to let her get away. I went to give her the meds at the time you told me - "

Essex smiled and held up his hand. "You did exactly as I asked. Good job, Arclight."

The bulky woman scrunched up her face in confusion. "You wanted her to escape?"

The doctor nodded. "I had hoped she'd do it in a less destructive manner, but I did want her back at Xavier's. I knew we wouldn't be able to keep her here long. Someone would come looking eventually. So I did what I needed to do to set the plan in motion: accelerated the activation of her latent genes and an extra little surprise for later."

The lanky, purple Gorgeous George piped up, "But I thought activating mutations in one shot was dangerous, like pissing off Scrambler."

"Yes. Another good reason I wanted her at Xavier's. Let the high and mighty deal with it when her powers go haywire."

Movement outside the giant hole in the wall caught Essex's eye. He turned back to his minions. "It's late. This mess can wait until morning."

As the last of the three filed out into the office, Essex called, "Wisdom, help Vertigo to bed. Tell her I'll make it up to her for the unscheduled rough-housing. She can have that new AA she's been eyeing. Oh, and thanks for the redesign on the coat." Essex put his arms through the leather trench. All the material below the shoulders was shredded. "It's much more me now."

Wisdom flipped him off and left.

Once the office door shut, Essex's smile left his face. "What do you want, Mesmero? You know it's not time yet. You haven't even gotten past the second door."

The tattooed slave stepped into the wrecked room. "I still do not agree with you developing your own force. Master would not like that."

Essex raised an eyebrow. "He didn't object to you using other people's teams to fetch the first key. And aren't you planning on using them again to unlock the second door?"

Mesmero's lips formed a thin line, but he did not speak. "Where is the thief?"

The doctor motioned toward the hole in the wall. "You're too late. He left."

The slave fumed. "You were supposed to stall him until I could get here!"

Essex gestured around the room. "The night didn't quite go as planned."

"I need him to open the second door!"

Picking up some papers off the floor, Essex replied calmly, "I still don't think that's a good idea. He works for Magneto now."

"My plan worked out perfectly until you could not keep him here long enough! How am I to find him now?"

Essex rolled his eyes and righted a chair to sit in. "He went to Xavier's. If you find a faster mode of transportation than you used to get here, you might still catch him."

Mesmero left without another word. Essex ground his teeth and rued the day he met Mesmero and his master Apocalypse.

* * *

Once Rogue's breathing became deep and regular, Remy spoke out into the forest. "She's asleep. Ya gonna gut me now?" 

Logan stepped out of the shadows with a blanket. "Hand her over, Gumbo. Keep your jacket. I'll put her to bed."

Picking up Rogue's file off the ground he handed it to Logan. "Dat's hers."

Never one to pry into the secrets of others, Logan merely nodded, tucking it away safely.

Remy gently picked up the girl and passed her off to Logan. "Go easy on her. She went t'rough a lot today."

The X-Man wrapped the girl securly in the blanket. He held his breath as she stirred but she didn't wake. Satisfied that she was still asleep, Logan sent Remy an icy stare. "I'm never gonna get rid of you, am I?"

As he slid into his still warm trench coat, Remy smirked. "Doesn' look like it."

"Let's get this straight: I don't trust you, never gonna. I wish that I could be done with you right now, but if I gut you, it'll hurt Rogue. The last thing I need is to make the girl cry or something. So you get to live." Logan headed toward the main gate. As he walked away he called back, "Don't ever go off alone again like you did tonight to be some knight in rusting armor. That happens again, you call me. Can't have you dyin' because you're a cocky idiot."

"You really don' like cryin' girls, do you?"

"Let that be a warning if you ever make Stripes cry."

Remy mock-saluted the X-Man. "Got it, Wolvie."

He watched the two disappear beyond the Institute gate, not noticing the pair of glowing eyes on the tattooed face behind him.

* * *

**A/N**: How do you like that? Essex spends WAY too much time planning. 

This story is complete. The "uncut" episodes of "Self-Possessed" and "Under Lock & Key" fit much better with the tone of the next story so they are going there. Stay tuned for _There is a Light that Never Goes Out_. Goldylokz, signing off :)


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